What about Witch Queen?
by Mapograph
Summary: World slowly comes to know that new queen of Arendelle is gifted with magic, but how will they react? Some refuse to believe. Some try to fix their relations with Arendelle. And some put into motion long-planned schemes, schemes in which Queen Elsa has just became a central figure...
1. Chapter 1: Matters to take care of

_Koenigsberg, island of Zisch_

King Friedrich the Second of the Southern Isles sighed inwardly when his little brother was led into the room. Hans apparently insisted - as usual - in dressing up as if the occasion was at least a coronation, which was potentially suicidal even in well-winded audience hall of Schloss Schwalbe. That forced Friedrich into putting on similar apparel, which made him overheated and wishing - hard - that audience would end quickly. Sadly, it didn't seem so. The fact that Hans' hands were tied behind his back was telling, but upon slightly closer inspection Friedrich noticed that his brother's clothes seemed used and dirtied. So did the prince himself, for that matter. Oh, please, please, no, thought Friedrich. I hope he didn't do… something. After his experiences with rest of von Schwalbes, list of possible "somethings" was rather long.

Hans and three guards who led him in stopped five meters from the throne, as the rules required. Their leader stepped to the front, holding something in his hand. He bowed a bit before the king - the Isles were never big on ceremony - before speaking:

"Your Majesty… We have brought your brother, Prince Hans, home."

Friedrich took control of his mouth before it could state, "I'm not blind". Instead, he answered:

"Indeed. However… why does he appear to be imprisoned?"

Captain took a deep breath, then extended his hand. The thing in it turned out to be a letter, marked with a seal showing the crowned reindeer in front of a snowflake. So the new queen of Arendelle had already established her emblem.

"It was a direct… uhm, wish… of queen Elsa of Arendelle.", the guard managed to utter.

"I see.", said the king, feeling sudden rush of very, very fatalist mood. "Let me see it, then, and leave me alone with my brother."

Guards seemed more than happy to comply.

Upon being left alone, Friedrich glared at Hans, who was looking as innocently as only a member of von Schwalbe family could - that is, quite convincingly. As a member of this family himself, Friedrich was not fooled.

"So", he said, "what did you do?"

Hans' look darted to the sides before he stated in frantic, theatrical whisper:

"Their queen… is… a witch!"

Friedrich's glare was obviously not strong enough to end Hans' theatrics.

"I expected better from you", he said dryly.

"Believe me, Brother, I am _not_ lying.", Hans replied. "You can ask whoever you wish to about that! The new queen of Arendelle is a witch!"

As if I were to ask people about such freakin' magic, thought Friedrich, breaking the seal of the letter in his hands. Witchcraft was a superstition of mainlanders and timid plebeian women, not kings of the realm…

He started reading. As he did, his expression slowly turned from interest to worry, to bewilderment, to unadulterated horror. Slowly, he raised his eyes and looked at Hans, who still kept up his pretenses of innocence.

"You did…" the king said slowly, "_what_?!"

* * *

_Arendelle_

"Well, Princey should be coming home about now, eh?"

Kai Madsen, heir to the West Keep Island and major of Arendelle's rather unimposing - at least until recently - army turned around to see his immediate superior grinning like a madman. General Bjorn Berg was a man as huge as his name and surname suggested, hinting at his mountaineer ancestry. He stuck above the ballroom's crowd like a scarecrow in the field, and had personality to match.

"Yes, I guess so", Kai answered politely. "It's… questionable, though, whether we should tell the Queen about this."

I think she has already heard him, he thought, noticing Her Majesty in the corner of his eye, looking in their direction. As usual, Queen Elsa was dressed in long, translucent blue gown, scandalously revealing for Arendelle standards, but definitely highlighting Her Majesty's natural beauty. And less than a week ago Kai's sister told him that ladies started ordering similar gowns to wear themselves, to despair of their mothers and chargin of their fathers.  
Well, we live in changing times, I guess, the major thought, taking a cookie off the passing tray.

"Oh, she already knows for sure!", said general with a grin. "That's our Queen Elsa, after all!"

She must hear us, Kai decided, noticing faint smile on Queen's face. Queen's sister definitely did - princess Anna had exploded in a fit of laughter the moment the general had finished his statement. Major felt himself reddening before realizing that it was most likely just Berg who was the focus of noble- and merchantmen's attention.

"Well, sir, as far as I know, Her Majesty possesses only ice powers, not clairvoyance. She might not be able to see so far."

He noticed that he started to speak more quietly. That was usual when people started talking about the Queen's… abilities, as if she indeed possessed clairvoyance. It was only two months after the Great Freeze, after all. Nobody was really sure.

"Perhaps, perhaps!", general agreed and Kai almost spitted his cookie out when he received a powerful pat on the back. "Anyway, Kai boy, I've got to talk to Her Majesty! Come with me, would you?!"

Well, that _was_ an order. Kai obeyed and followed. Despite ballroom being rather crowded, his path in the wake of general's passing was rather clear.

Party was thrown in honor of the Kingdom of Corona, or, specifically, its heir apparent, princess Rapuznel. Princess - cousin few times removed of Arendelle ruling family - has just signed a trade treaty that would enable Arendelle to dig itself out of economical hole it was thrown into by the Great Freeze. Throughout the two months for which she had been staying in the castle, she had proven to be as lively a person as princess Anna, and as kind-hearted.

Unsurprisingly, she was there when Kai and general Berg approached the Queen. She was chatting excitedly with princess Anna, with Queen mostly nodding sagely, something that Kai recognized from relationship with his own siblings. Upon noticing the general, Her Majesty spoke in the brake princess Rapunzel made to take breath.

"If you'll excuse me for a moment, Anna, Rapunzel."

"Of course, don't worry!", her sister said cheerfully.

"State can't wait!", added Rapunzel and the two returned to their conversation. In the corner of the ballroom, Kai noticed prince consort Eugene and Anna's how-would-you-call-it mountaineer Kristoff talking between themselves about Almighty-knows-what. Maybe about their disdain for nobility or possession of surprisingly intelligent steeds. Who knows what commoners-until-recently talk about on the balls.

Kai's attention snapped back to the general, who at this point had already exchanged greetings with the Queen. Major felt himself reddening again.

"Your Majesty", he murmured, bowing slightly.

"Major", she answered in tone that signalized that he hadn't broken any protocol. Inside, he sighed with relief. "General, I've heard there is some case you'd like to discuss with me?"

"There is, Your Majesty.", he agreed. "As a matter of fact…"

He lowered the tone of his voice a bit.

"Majority of Arendelle's army feels… unsure as to their place in the current strategy of our Kingdom."

Ah. So that was what Berg wanted to talk about. Well, 'unsure as to their place' was… rather mildly put, compared with rumors that were running wild all around the Royal Army.

"Indeed?", was the Queens only answer, albeit in polite tone.

"Well, Your Majesty, it is indisputable that your newly revealed abilities are… tremendous barrier for anybody who'd like to attack us. Shortly put, any attack on Arendelle is virtually impossible as long as you live…"

And everybody knows that magical beings live longer that ordinary mortals, finished Kai in his mind. Queen must've thought the same, for her eyes narrowed as she nodded, ordering the general to speak on.

"… and thus there are voices that state that Army became somewhat obsolete because of protection you can provide, Your Majesty. There are also those who state that, with our borders secure, we should become more… ah, active in international politics."

Oh? Kai never actually expected Berg to belong to the activist faction in the Army, even though that appeared to be obvious. Her Majesty, on the other hand, seemed to have heard that already. Her face took on the polite, emotionless expression and Kai new what the answer would be.

"General, I'm afraid you are somewhat mistaken in your assumption that with me on the throne, our kingdom is unconquerable. May I remind you that during the Great Freeze I was hardly able to protect myself, much less anyone else?" She waved her hand dismissively. "Sure, right now my control is much greater, but rest assured that I still depend on the Royal Army to protect Arendelle."

She paused for a moment, as if estimating Berg's reaction to her words. Then she continued.

"As for international politics, Arendelle has always been trade power. That was the policy my father supported and that is a policy I shall be supporting as well. I would much prefer to use my power over ice to thaw the ice on the shipping routes during winter than to aid us in any sort of, ah, aggressive politics."

Well, here goes activists' dream of magical support in their imagined war of conquest, Kai thought with relief. He was a soldier, sure - but he was also a baron-to-be, and West Keep was rich mostly because of the trade that passed by it. This declaration - doubtlessly heard by nobility and merchantmen who constituted the majority of the company present - meant that trade routes would be open all year round, which nearly doubled expected annual income. For them, that was good.

Not so much for Berg, though. Even though he tried to hide it, Kai could see his disappointment as clear as if it was written on general's forehead. Nevertheless, the huge mountaineer bowed deeply.

"Of course, Your Majesty."

* * *

It wasn't until they exited the castle grounds that the general exploded.

"Unbelievable!", he bellowed in frustration, then spiced it with words more fit to a sergeant, and bellowed again:  
"Un-be-lie-va-ble! Unbe_frakkin_livable!"

He then added some curses that Kai didn't know, but which seemed to be in mountaineer. Major, hiding in the shadows under the houses, glanced at the windows around him. Some children were undoubtedly learning something this night.

"Such a great opportunity!", the general exclaimed, looking at the major. "Imagine, Kai, just imagine! We could become a power, _real_ power, like Confederates or Tampere! As she says she'd rather support _trade_. Trade!"

Kai had learned some time ago that it's better to stay silent when Berg is in sour mood. And so he did, listening to the general with worsening humour.  
"For ages we've been country of freakin' shopkeepers and tax collectors! Now there's opportunity to change that… and she'll support _trade_."  
He spoke a word as if it was something sour. He fell silent then and looked at Kai, obviously expecting an answer.

Major felt uncomfortable with it. On one hand, he was fairly confident that Arendelle nobility, as small as it was, would speak in one voice if the choice was between conquering the lands for non-existent peers of the Realm, or extending the trading season, bringing more coin into the purses of definitely-existing ones. Sure, they liked to send their children into the army, mostly so that those children could learn what commoners really think of them - but then it was a tradition, not some sort of display of support for imagined conquers.

On the other hand, Kai didn't feel particularly inclined to tell Berg about it. One'd think that nobleman's life in the Army would be easy, but everybody looked at the bluebloods full of doubt, and every promotion they got - if they ever climbed over the rank of the lieutenant - was immediately suspected to be result of their connections rather than talent. As a protégé of Berg - commoner-born, skilled and no-nonsense as the general was - Kai could advance in ranks at normal speed and without slightest suspicions, because Berg was blind to blood. Everybody knew that… and major would rather not lose that by misspoken word.

Instead of speaking his mind clearly, then, he said:

"Sir, remember, please, that the Queen has only recently learned to fully command her powers. She might not be sure if she'd be able to support a marching army without hurting us in the process. On the other hand, if she works on the sea, the worst that could happen is that the fishermen will catch fish already frozen for the next few weeks. Perhaps we should give Her Majesty more time."  
Berg looked at him, considering, and Kai hoped that his reasoning made sense. It apparently did, because another powerful pat landed on his back and Berg said cheerfully:

"Good think I kept you, boy, you've gotta head! Sure, we'll wait…"

He leaned to his ear and whispered cheerfully:

"…but Her Majesty haven't forbidden us to prepare, now has she?"


	2. Chapter 2: Family business

_Koenigsberg_

Von Schwalbe family gatherings were usually rather a big affair, especially after fifteen children started, one by one, to reach majority and marry. After king Klaus died (over-extortion, decided the unkind ones), most of von Schwalbes moved on to live on their own, getting together - or mostly together, at least - for one occasion: birthdays of the oldest of them, king Friedrich.

With his wife Lisa at his shoulder, Friedrich looked around the middle sized ballroom they always used for that purpose. This year, some were missing, as usually. Aaron, child nine and boy eight, followed his wife Maria on diplomatic mission far West. Ferdinand, child six and boy five, a naval officer, unexpectedly found himself in the middle of pirate chase after idiots tried to loot one of the southernmost islands. Youngest kid, Ute, being her usual self, was probably somewhere in the Isles. Perhaps in commoner's clothes. Her older brothers and sister didn't really understand her.

"Aaand where's our little Hans?", asked Frederick, boy eleven and one of the twins, approaching Friedrich with a cup of punch. Friedrich sighed. Well, he had to tell them someday.

"He went to Arendelle for the coronation of the new queen.", Lisa stated calmly before he could answer.

"Him? Why him?", asked Urlich, boy twelve and Freddie's twin, shuffling closer. "He wanted to catch a princess?"

Well, they are my family, Friedrich consoled himself, answering before Lisa could.

"Yeah. And got sent back in shackles."

That startled them all. Conversations stopped and heads turned. Jonas, boy six, looked at Friedrich from over the couch.

"Hans? Well, well, who'd expect that…", he asked sarcastically. "What did he try to do? Get a girl? Steal the silvers? Charm the queen-to-be?"

"Worse.", came the murmur from the other side of the room. Eric, husband of Friedrich's sister Margaret, child two, and heir apparent to the Principality of Weselton, was standing there, leaning on the wall, with wine in his hand.

"Oh, so you've heard? Share the news, then.", Friedrich encouraged him.

"Yes, we've passed the messenger boat on the way here. Your youngest brother was sent back on the accusations of… well, attempted double murder, usurping the power _and _attempted coup."

For the moment, entire family was frozen into shock. Then Jonas looked at the king.

"Friedrich, please tell me that he's not serious."

"Well, I wish I could."

For a few more moments the only sound was Jonas's facepalm. Then ballroom exploded into ruckus.

* * *

"…aaand, on top of that, he claims that Elsa is… wait for it… a _witch_."

"Well, now he's just messing with us.", said Margaret, reading queen Elsa's letter. Queen Elsa's message went through the hands of everybody in the family roughly three times, everybody seeing and not believing.

Little Hans, being scoundrel and attention-seeker, sure. Little Hans, trying to catch himself the princess? Well, not exactly unexpected. Little Hans, trying to take over the kingdom _and_ murder both members of royal family? Holy hell.

"Well, she do seem pissed", murmured Margaret, folding the letter and returning it to Friedrich.

"I'd be if I were her", murmured Stefan, boy seven. "But I'd really like to know why does he insist on this witchcraft thing. Why the hell would we believe him?"

A sound of cleared throat came from Eric's direction.

"What is it, Eric?", asked Urlich.

"Well, if I may. Hans might be wrong, but his assumption is definitely based rather solidly."

"What?", came from a few throats. Friedrich was one of people asking, but after a moment, he noticed:

"Your… uncle was there, right?"

"Yes, uncle Andrew. Superstitious old man, but well. Arendelle is… was… our biggest trade parter."

"Was?"

"Yep. Seems like he decided to participate in Hans' adventures."

Short explaining later, Eric finished:

"All I know for sure is that Anna dragged Hans in front of the queen for her blessing, argument exploded, suddenly queen stormed out of castle, and somehow the story jumps to the fact that all Arendelle was covered in snow."

"In June?"

"Yeah. So Anna runs out of the castle, with Hans close after her, something happens in the mountains, then the queen comes back, there's a snowstorm of the century and suddenly there's no more winter, queen is back and Hans with uncle Andrew get arrested and later sent back to here and Weselton, accused of attempted regicide."

"And when does the witchcraft come into that?", asked Michael, boy two.

"Well, apparently locals believe it's her who caused the weather shifts. As a matter of fact, uncle wrote to me, stating that I should 'beware that witch', and that 'severing our ties with Arendelle is for our own good'! Would you believe?", he finished, clearly embittered. Friedrich understood him. Weselton was small principality stuffed between two mountain ranges, with only Arendelle to deal with. Their main - well, only - trading product was coal, which it produced in amount roughly enough to satisfy the need of two small countries. For years, one of those was Arendelle, which - up north and with no ores to speak of - needed coal badly. Arendelle cutting the trade with Weselton would hit principality's economy badly.

Of course, the question was how exactly is Elsa going to heat her subjects' houses in the winter. Friedrich patted Eric on the shoulder.

"Don't worry. She's young, younger than you, and I bet she didn't really think it through. The moment cold starts coming she'll send a letter apologizing for the trouble and asking if you could, pleeeease, sell her some coal, pretty please!"

That - especially parodying way Friedrich said it - sent a small laughter around the room.

"She can burn wood, if she's despaired to keep us out.", noticed Eric, even though his mood seemed to get better. Then he became sour again.

"Of course, that's rather moot speculation if there really is something behind those rumors."

Friedrich froze on that, not believing for a moment that Eric actually suggested that. Then he looked at the rest of his family. Most of them seemed as surprised as him, apart from Albrecht, boy ten, who probably slept instead of listening, and Michael, who seemed angry, and getting angrier with every moment.

"Honestly? You believe that?", asked Jonas.

"_I don't know_", answered Eric, throwing up his hands. "No idea!"

"Please, that's absurd", murmured Ferdinand.

"Well, there was this matter in Corona a few years back…", Margaret noticed from the sofa next to Eric. Some brothers looked as if they were enraged by the statement, so Friedrich decided to calm the mood.

"That… doesn't matter right now.", he said simply. "I guess we've got some other concerns."

"That's for sure!", said Michael jumping on his feet and bending slightly forward. "I think we're forgetting about the fact that queen actually arrested one of ours, kept him in freakin' cell for nearly a _month_ and then sent home in ship's prison, not to mention that she ordered _our _guards around! That's just plain incredulous, and we're doing… what, exactly?!"

Well, he _is_ pissed, Friedrich noticed. And my stupid brothers agree with him. He folded his arms and stood stronger in front of his family, eyeing Michael.

"What _I_ am going to do, Michael, is writing to her majesty queen Elsa _apologizing_ her for my youngest brother's unfounded and reasonless attack on her and her sister!"

"What?! Are you kidding me?!", asked Michael. "You're gonna pretend all this violations of protocol didn't happen and bow in front of this-"

"It's 'are you kidding me, _Your Majesty_'.", Friedrich answered coldly. "And regarding violations of protocol, the only one I've seen so far was Hans' behavior at and after the coronation."

That put Michael back in line. He back off and fell on the sofa without keeping his eyes off Friedrich.

"Great", he said simply. "Great. Sure. You're the king, after all."

* * *

Sometime after the party, Friedrich found himself standing in the middle of his room, panting, teeth set and fists clenched. Around him once-fine bedroom was a picture of ruin.

"Honey?", the voice from the door snapped him into reality from bloody dreams of murder. Lisa was standing there.

"I see we have to order new furniture again", she observed serenely.

"Oh… I'm sorry, Lisa", he said, slumping on the floor between remains of table and crystal lampoon.

"I got used to it", she said, picture of calmness as ever. "Although I'd rather Michael kept himself away from the castle for some time."

"Well, me too.", he agreed and put himself on his feet, then left the room so that servants could deal with result of his anger issues. He froze midway, few feet from Lisa.

"I didn't…?"

She sighed.

"Do I look like you did?"

He bent slightly, then breathed in relief.

A while later, in small living room next to his daughter's bedroom, Friedrich sat with Lisa, glasses of brandy in their hands.

"You think I made the right decision?", he asked her.

"That hardly matters now.", she noticed. "But I'd say… well, yes and no."

"Thanks, hon. That was helpful."

She chuckled.

"Friedrich, after the show Michael put up there at the party you could hardly agree with him without looking like you're backing off. On the other hand…"

Lisa took a deep gulp from her glass.

"You know your family. You think they'll like it?"

Friedrich poured himself and his wife.

"No. They won't at all."

* * *

Eric, heir apparent to Weselton, was in rather foul mood two days later. Apart from the disaster that was sending uncle Andrew to the coronation, and economical matters, there was the fact that he was on the boat. He hated sailing.  
The day, just to spite him, was awful as well. Despite this being nearly October and thus the end of rain season, sky was clouded and streams of cold water poured down endlessly. That forced Eric to go under the deck, where his seasickness was at its strongest.

Margaret approached him with a cup of something smelling nicely.

"Ginger tea", she proclaimed.

"Almighty bless you", he said from his bed, grabbing the cup. After seven years of swimming to and fro Southern Isles - four weeks each way - he found it to be wonderful remedy.

Margaret sat next to him while he drank.

"So? What do we do?", she asked.

"About what, Arendelle? I guess your brother made his position clear."

"I don't mean 'we' as sister and brother-in-law of Southern Isles' king", she said. "I mean 'we' as first in line to Weselton throne. Sure you're not going to just bow and grovel before Elsa."

"No, of course not!", he answered, then made a break for a drink. "But what would you suggest, attacking them? You are aware that we have… had… a protection deal with Arendelle specifically to avoid such cases, right? And even if we managed to conquer them… somehow, without funds to pay our soldiers… that doesn't exactly solve our economic problems."

"Sure, sure… But really, why conquest?"

Eric looked at her.

"You've got some idea?"

"Yes. We'll be going along Confederates' coast on the way, won't we? Why not stop and try to make some deal?"

Eric considered, then nodded. As big a country as Confederacy was, Weselton would probably end up giving the coal away nearly for free, but "nearly for free" was not "actually for free".

"If you could ask the captain?"

"Sure." She stood up. Before leaving, she turned to look at him.

"Don't worry, Eric. I know some people in Confederacy."

That was probably supposed to be reassuring, but after she left, Eric felt rather worried. It seemed like there was some plan concocted in his wife's pretty head and she didn't tell Eric about it.  
Von Schwalbe family started as pirates. Some claimed that they still kept some of their past ways.

* * *

Margaret's head was not the only one concocting plans at that moment.

Michael von Schwalbe paced back and forth across his room, while his wife Annaliese worked on her laceworks. Suddenly he stopped halfway and turned to her.

"'King Michael The First'. How does it sound to you, Alise?"

"It has a certain ring to it, sure.", she agreed without rising her head and he sighed. Annaliese was chosen for him by his father and while they got along, she lacked certain degree of imagination Michael desired.

"And what about 'Queen Annaliese '?", he tried.

That caught her attention. She looked up at him and tilted her head.

"You are seriously thinking about overthrowing your brother?"

"'Overthrow' is such a big word, Alise. I'd rather we used 'retire'."

"As you wish, Michi. But you are thinking about it."

"Of course I am!", he answered and returned to pacing. "What he showed two days ago; his mindset; it's absurd, Alise, that such a man would sit on the throne! We're going to be laughingstock of all region if he's actually going to apologize to that woman and pretend she acted perfectly civil!"

If Annaliese 's opinion differed from her husband's, she didn't let him know. He took it as a sign that he should continue.

"Not to mention Friedrich himself! Who knows if he's even supposed to sit on the throne, titling himself the king!"

Old story. Rumor had it that queen Anjelika has shown up at her wedding already pregnant, and that the father was not king Klaus. Whether or not that was true was debatable, and any proof was, of course, absent, but that hadn't stopped the gossipmongers.

"Not to mention… did you hear about his episodes? He's trashing his room every time something ticks him off! I bet his guards are afraid of him! And now this! Who do you think might support him?"

"I don't think they'd be less afraid of king who killed his brother for the title.", noticed Annaliese .

"Ha! You'd be surprised."

He rang the bell and the servant appeared moments later.

"Bring me lieutenant Weiss", he ordered and servant disappeared silently. Annaliese put down her lacework.

"You can stay if you want to. After all, if you want to be the queen…"

"I will, but your lieutenant doesn't have to see me sewing. I see you've got plans already?"

"Sketch of a plan, yes", admitted Michael. "Not entirety of it. But that's good."

"How come?"

"You see, Alise, a new piece just fell into my hands and in time…" he grinned. Annaliese had nothing of his theatrics, though.

"What piece?"

"Queen Elsa of Arendelle, of course. The Witch Queen, did you hear the name? People start calling her like that already. Soon citizens of the Isles will fear her, and who will they look for to save them? Not the king that made deal with her, of course!"

Annaliese started to nod before noting a flaw in Michaels "sketch of a plan".

"You don't know if they'll fear her."

"Oh, don't worry, my dear. I'll take care of that little detail."

With that he fell back on his armchair, smiling as if the crown he desired was already on his head.


	3. Chapter 3: Maneuvers

_Camp Northwest, Arendelle_

Once one knew that general Berg had a plan, it was fairly easy to guess what this plan actually was. Long story short, in a few days army was about to march out to the mountains for a training. Once it came back - which was due to happen a bit less than a month later - Queen should be more willing to go along with activists' plan. And when she'd be - and Berg seemed sure that would be - she'd have freshly trained army at hand, ready to be sent into combat.

Kai personally had his doubts about whether queen would be more willing. Surely during that month there would be more than a handful of nobles convincing Her Majesty - "pestering her" came to major's mind - that she'd help kingdom greatly by putting her powers to the service of trade.

Deep into thoughts, he nearly missed the fact that his horse, Spot, was getting off the road and into the grass again. He sighed and forced the animal back on the road, to some lightly concealed amusement of soldiers passing by. It was a well-known story in the camps that despite being a nobleman, Kai Madsen rode a horse like a bag of potatoes.

Spot expressed his disappointment by trying to shake his rider off. Kai took his time to put stupid animal back under control, then continued unhurried ride through Camp Northwest, Arendelle's biggest Army quarters. Around him, barracks and workshops were full of activity: swords and pikes were sharpened, clothes mended, muskets cleared, shoes fixed… Everywhere, people were carrying crates and bags of food, equipment, bullets and powder. The last ones were easy to spot - crowd parted before them and they were really careful. Uncared for properly, powder was prone to explode.  
Elsewhere, people were leading horses and mules to their cages, fixing carts and checking their parts before hard mountainous road. Kai noticed a near accident when carter, chasing the wheel that rolled away, bumped into the man carrying sacks of dried meat. Both man and food fell on the ground and two fellows started to collect meant frantically while exchanging insults. Then Spot entered the passage between two barracks and the scene was out of Kai's view.

Moments later, Kai approached the exit from the camp. Gritted sergeant welcomed him. Major knew him - as a matter of fact, Gram was his subordinate (and helpful hand) when Kai was a lieutenant.

"Mornin', sir. Anythin' I can do for you?"

"Just open me the door, Gram.", answered Kai, gripping Spot's rains tightly. "Anything I can do for you in the city?"

"Not really, sir. I've got my matters all wrapped up.", said sergeant and waved to hurry up some private who was already opening the door. "Although it'd be nice if up-theres would send us more powder."

"Well, you know how it is.", said major. "There's no such thing as 'enough powder'. But I'll be talking provision with general this afternoon. Come on, Spot."

Man exchanges goodbyes and horse moved on. After he exited the camp and got on the road leading to Arendelle, Kai felt confident enough to go into trot (or whatever horse riders called it). Spot obliged, although Kai had to steer it off the road's borders and green pastures all the time.  
His bag was bumping his hip repetitively. He had to bring final papers to Her Majesty.

* * *

_Arendelle_

Her Majesty Queen Elsa of Arendelle (some titles followed), passed by the corner, listening for voices. She was _fairly_ confident that Anna and Kristoff went that way when they passed her some time ago, although they probably weren't there anymore. Not with Anna.

Her hand was dirtied with chocolate and Elsa tried to get rid of it in the most efficient way - that is, by licking it off. It didn't look very regal, but even after opening the castle doors there were few people roaming in the family wing of the castle. And that was a good chocolate.

Finally, she heard two people behind the door to Anna's bedroom. She considered just coming in, then decided she'd probably prefer to knock first.  
Even with this precaution, the two of them were rather surprised when she entered. She stopped in the door and put her hands on the hips.

"I hope I'm not interrupting you?", she asked, trying not to show her amusement as Anna and Kristoff started to shake their head wildly.

"No, no, why?", Royal Ice Deliverer asked.

"Of course not!", added heiress apparent with wide smile.

"That's good. I have to talk to you", Elsa said, pointing at Kristoff.

"Me?", mountaineer asked, surprised. Elsa didn't deign to answer.

"Well, I'm staying", added Anna, sitting at her bed with expression and position supporting her decision.

Elsa considered, then nodded, entering the room and closing the room behind her. She wanted to lock it, but apparently Anna didn't put a lock on her door.

"So… Kristoff, I've got a job for you."

"Job?" He still seemed surprised.

"Where did you get chocolate?", Anna wanted to know.

Elsa hid her chocolate stained hand quickly. Kristoff continued:

"Well, if you need ice, I can go for some…"

Really?

"Kristoff, do you really think that with me at the throne the job of Royal Ice Deliverer is actually providing ice to the ruler?"

Both her sister and her boyfriend fell silent for the moment.

"Well, that's tricky.", admitted Anna.

"Yeah." Kristoff seemed considerably less awed and more unhappy. "So… what exactly _is _the job of Royal Ice Deliverer?"

"Ha! Let me explain it to you…"

* * *

_Camp Northwest_

"That's just absurd, Kai!"

Major jumped, startled, when Berg's voice boomed inside general's cabinet. Kai himself was sitting by the desk, filling in the endless paperwork, while mountaineer sat by the table, drinking whiskey and reading already finished documentation.

Kai turned around to see what is it.

"What's absurd, sir?", he asked, unable to see what Berg's reading.

"What, the provisions! Just look at it! I'm fairly sure we asked for twice as much powder! And the grain? What do they think I'll feed the horses with in the mountains?!"

Yeah. They probably expect us to pasture the horses and mules on the way, thought Kai, even though it would slow us down by half. But Supplies proven multiple times that their contact with reality was fleeting.

"Not only that, Kai!", continued Berg. "Just look at _that_!"

He stood up and started waving some strip of paper in front of Kai's eyes. Major caught it and read quickly.

"Our quartermaster disappeared? What the…?"

"Supplies! Frakking Supplies!", said Berg, then levelled some more well-deserved curses on the Supplies.

"I bet they decided that there's somewhere else he'd be more useful!"

"I'll urge them to hurry up.", Kai proposed to calm down his superior and end the assault on his ears.

"Good! Do it now! Maybe he'll catch up with us before we're back!"

When Kai contacted Supplies, they stated that they're sorry, but there was a misfile and their quartermaster was sent away. He couldn't really be sent back, because by now he was on ship and halfway to the Camp West Point. Kai toyed with the idea of writing his brother about it, so that he'll meet with the man at the pier and send him back, but in the end Supplies promised to send someone else before army left.  
Small hope for that, thought Kai gloomily, but he agreed.

* * *

_Isenberg, Confederated Duchy of Isenwerk_

When _Midnight Glory _finally touched land in the capital of Isenwerk, Eric felt like praying to the Almighty. They arrived in Confederated Realms two days before the schedule, which was a blessing enough in itself, but just to make it better, the weather was just beautiful: no clouds and no strong sun.  
While Eric was admiring the fact that he survived the trip, leaning on the railing aboard, Margaret patted him on the shoulder.

"I'm going offshore.", she said. He turned to look at her.

"To the Traders' Guild?", he asked, surprised. "We barely arrived! For that matter, shouldn't I go with you?"

"Oh, I'm not going to the Guild, hon. You may not know it, but Isenberg has _the _best dressmakers in the Confederacy, and I am going to use that." She chuckled. "You can accompany me if you want to, of course."

Eric eyed her. She hid it well, but they were married for some time already and he knew her, and the way her eyes drifted to the left when she really didn't want anyone to go with her. I wonder, he thought. I wonder.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?", he asked.

"Don't worry, I don't have to sneak into dark alleys to have a dress."

"Well, then. Have fun."

"Thanks, honey."

He waited until she left the ship and set a course for wider street, then followed her.

* * *

Isenwerk port was full of people, but once he went deeper into the city, Eric noticed that crowd is thinning. That was both good and bad – good, because he had a good look at where Margaret is going, and bad, because she could notice he's following her.

Nothing to worry about, he told himself. If she sees me, I'll just say I was worried about her. But then, why didn't I accompany her from the beginning?  
Well, the real reason was that he wouldn't see where she was really going, but what would he tell her?

Margaret turned sharply and he followed after a moment into much narrower street. It was full of people, to his surprise, mostly women and girls. Trying to find his way through without losing sight of Margaret, he noticed signs hanging over the entrances. Oh, so that was dressmakers' and tailors' street. Maybe Margaret really wanted to buy herself a dress.

But no – when he finally exited the commotion on its other end (excusing to two old crones whose feet he stepped on), he noticed the end of Margaret's green coat disappearing behind the corner. He muttered some excuses to the ladies who seemed furious with him and followed hurriedly.  
This street was uncared for and empty and he followed at much greater distance, pulling the grabbed sailor's cap over his eyes and adapting much slower, more purposeless way of walking. He still ducked into some corner when he noticed she's about to turn around. Apparently she didn't notice him, because when he looked out, she was already turning into another narrow alley.

When he approached it, he heard the voices, talking in Confederate, language of Isles and Confederacy.

"Yeah, missy? And why would Drachner meet ya'?"

"Stop acting big", Margaret said with her Islander accent very clear against man's much less intelligible one. "If you don't tell him that Duchess is here, and he'll find out, you're in for a hell of a pain."

"Yeah, sure. Ready to believe you.", answered the bloke, but judging the sounds, he went inside.

A few moments later, new steps arrived and new voice said, with an accent worth Confederacy trade barons:

"Gretchen, Gretchen! So good to see you! Why haven't you told me earlier you are in the city?"

'Gretchen'? As far as Eric new, she hated this form of her name. And who's that man, anyway?

"Drachner.", Margaret answered courtly. "I've just arrived. You den is literally the first place I went to after getting offboard."

"Is it? That's nice of you!", said this Drachner man and there was a sound of crushed fabric. This man is hugging my wife, Eric realized with a shock.

"I have a problem I'd like to talk over with you, Drachner."

"All business, aren't we? Well, let's get inside. I bet you're hungry! Sea trips do this to you…"

With that, they went somewhere. Eric just stood in the place for some time.  
Who is that guy? And what has Margaret to do with him? What is going on here?

He stepped away from the wall and strolled in front of the street, taking a short look at it. Small plate over the opened door read "Black Dragon Beerhouse". Yeah, sure, thought Eric. I just _bet _Margaret is discussing beer with that Drachner.  
Huge bloke stepped outside of the beerhouse and glared at Eric.

"Off my street, drunk", he growled.

Eric obliged.

* * *

Some roving later he managed to find what seemed like back entrance to the Black Dragon. Some barrels were cooling in the shadow next to the entrance. Behind the window over them Eric noticed some other bloke, much similar to the thugs uncle Andrew hired, pacing.

He decided to wait. Experience with uncle's men learned him that thugs like that aren't very good at looking at things for a long time. Whoever that was, for that matter, he was definitely not after the guardsmen training that would cure him of bad habits. In a moment he'd probably find something more interesting to do.

It took some time but indeed, after a while thug wandered off somewhere. Eric looked around and then went to the door casually. At first, he considered trying to enter, but thought better of it. They were probably locked. He looked behind the window. Behind it there was apparently some sort of guard's room, sparsely furnished and tiny. Nothing useful.

He was about to start despairing when he noticed that there is another window, slightly open, one floor higher. When he listened, he heard voices coming from up there. Quickly, he climbed on the barrels, hearing them creaking under his boots. He stood on his toes and tilted his head to catch as much of conversation as possible. Silence – apart from creaking of the barrel he stood on – let him do it without much problem. Over the clicking of cutlery on the plates and cut food he heard voices.

"…course it's a problem for me, Gretchen." It was Drachner. "I know perfectly that this might mean end of the business for me. I'm making profit because my ships can escape navies. But what could they do if she just freezes the sea around them?"

They're talking about queen Elsa, Eric realized, part of his mind wondering if cover of the barrel isn't breaking under his boots.

"It is a problem for me as well, Felix. Did you know she just decided to spite Weselton and cut the trade? And my brother got sent back in country in chains!"

"Felix"?! They're on the first name basis?!

"Something tells me that the last one isn't really the matter for you.", noticed Drachner. "But I'd be glad to help with the first one."

"That would be nice, but my fool of a husband just won't accept it."

Fool of a husband, Eric thought, more and more angry. I'll keep that in mind. Wood creaked under his feet.

"Then he doesn't have to know."

"Of course. But still, that's only part of the problem."

"Oh? How's so?"

"Do you really think that with that much power on her hands – and with what she's already done – she's going to be a peaceful monarch? Of course not, Felix! I'm telling you-"

Eric didn't find out what she was telling him, because at that moment the cover finally gave up and he fell with a scream he couldn't silence in time. His legs wet with beer, he jumped to his feet and noticed the guard behind the window. Cursing, he broke into sprint.

Eric was a fast runner, and adrenaline gave him wings. Before thug managed to unlock the door and run in search for him, he was already turning into tailors' street, dripping beer all the way and panting. The women there looked at him in disgust, apparently thinking he's some portside drunk, so he had little problem going through them.

He finally managed to find some clothes shop and purchase a pair of trousers roughly the right size. His own trousers, along with the boots, landed in the trash bin. Feeling rough, cold stone under his feet, Eric trotted back to the ship, wondering whether Margaret noticed it's him – and whether he should talk to her.

He wasn't really sure. He didn't trust his wife enough.

* * *

_Camp Northwest_

This time Supplies were good on their promise. Twenty hours before planned leave, Gram knocked on Kai's door and shoved his unshaved head inside.

"Yer new quartermaster, sir", he announced, then left.

Inside came the man who seemed somewhat familiar, although Kai couldn't really decide why. He was tall and built like a mountaineer, solidly. His dark red hair were in complete disorder. Badly trimmed mustache found its way under the fellow's rather impressive nose. Kai didn't really recall knowing someone like that.

I must've seen him when I was at Supplies, he decided finally. Meanwhile, the man saluted without much zeal and said:

"Christian Mikkeli, sir. As your sergeant said: I'm the new quartermaster. Supplies apologize for their trouble."

"Yeah, sure.", answered Kai, wondering why the man had Arendellean name but mountaineer surname. "Anyway, that's a problem for you. Berg will skin you alive if we'll leave later than he planned."

He noticed Mikkeli swallowing. He must've seen Berg – general was twice as large as the quartermaster.

"Wouldn't want that to happen", Mikkeli said finally. "Where do I work?"

"Wherever you're needed.", answered Kai, then stood up from his desk. "But you've got a paper storage."

He led quartermaster into middle sized room and showed it to him. Mikkeli scowled.

"What a mess."

"Yeah. You've got twenty hours. Good luck."

He left Mikkeli there, bent over papers on the desk, and knocked on general's door.

"Our quartermaster arrived.", he said upon entering. "He do seem eager to finish in twenty hours."

"He'd better.", murmured general. "Tell him to get us more muskets."

"Sir?", asked Kai, surprised.

By the traditional tactics of Royal Army, there were supposed to be two pike-armed soldiers for every musket-armed. If Kai remembered the numbers correctly, right now the quota was one to one.

"I'd rather be on the safe side.", said the general. "Boy, don't underestimate soldier's ability to lose or break his equipment."

"Alright, sir, I'll tell Mikkeli that."

Quartermaster didn't seem very happy about it - as a matter of fact, he seemed rather unhappy about everything - but got back to work.

"Can't promise anything, though.", he said. "It's a small wonder that you managed to gather this much."

"Do what you can.", Kai advised him.

"Sure. I remember what you said about skinning."

* * *

As a matter of fact, they left two hours later than planned. Berg seemed adamant that he'll wait for the additional muskets and all else that was to go with them. Only after they finally arrived and Mikkeli found them a place in supply train did he agree to move out.

For such a short time, quartermaster did quite a job, although he confided in Kai that he'd still have to work on it on the road, which meant that army's progress could slow down to snail's pace.

But all in all, Madsen was satisfied that he finally got out of Camp Northwest. He wasn't really sure why, though - he'd have to spend days on Spot's back, after all.

He sighed and approached the horse without much excitement. After some wrestling with the saddle he finally managed to sit on the horse. He turned around, satisfied, only to see Mikkeli looking at him with something of an amazement. Quartermaster himself sat on a middle-sized reindeer who tried to eat a bit from faraway grass clump. Kai felt himself reddening at the thought that the man watched his ridiculous horse-management skills.

"Do you mountaineers all ride reindeers?", he asked, trying to cover embarrassment.

"Not if we're generals.", noted Mikkeli, pointing at Berg. General mounted a huge, black stallion, obviously full of martial glory. Kai turned to see it better…

…suddenly the saddle slid and he with it, squeaking and grabbing spots with his feet. Moment later he was hanging upside down.

He was breathing hard for a few seconds. Then he noticed Mikkeli and reindeer looking at him. Somehow the animal's stare annoyed him even more than human's.

"Need help?", asked Mikkeli with look of sheer amazement.

He almost answered "no" before reason kicked in.

"Yes. Preferably before anyone else sees me."

Finally Mikkeli fastened saddlebelts properly, while Spot stood there with philosophical calmness. Kai managed to get on the horse and both men joined the train.

"Major", inquired quartermaster. "What do we need all those muskets for?"

Kai shrugged.

"I guess Berg has his reasons."


	4. Chapter 4: Little Hans

_Koenigsberg_

Little Hans' bedroom was kept in shades of light gray and blue, which, combined with his traditional choice of attire, made him nearly blend in. Friedrich didn't comment on it, even though he really wanted do.

"So, brother", he started, leaning on the door. "What am I supposed to do with you?"

Little Hans didn't even look at him. He was lying in his bad, staring at the ceiling.

"Well, I figure you could let me go and we'd all forget all this ever happened. It's not like anybody ever noticed me anyway."

"Oh, stop painting yourself as a victim!", said Friedrich. "You really think that I can do that?"

"Why not? It's not like Arendellans are here, or anywhere close, for that matter." Hans turned to look at him. "I'm telling you: you let me go, I disappear on Westerguard for some time, we wait few week and all is fine!" He punctuated the last one by throwing his hands to the ceiling.

"Yeah, sure. No, Hans, this time this just isn't happening."

Little Hans… No, I should stop thinking about him as "little", thought Friedrich. You don't call a would-be murderer like that.  
Hans commented his statement with a snort.

"So what _is _happening? You obviously have no idea, _Your Majesty_."

"Oh, you're right about that. Right now my choice is between being disowning you and taking Westerguard away from you. For starters."

He expected that to move Hans somewhat, but the only answer was him folding his hands.

"Sure. It's not like I need Westerguard. Feel free to take it."

Friedrich was close to answering where Hans can put his choices when he remembered the old story about the rabbit and the briar patch.

"Well, if you say so, I'll write the necessary papers today."

Silent fell. Hans didn't answer.

"Don't want to talk? Alright. Anything else I can do for you? Because believe me, Westerguard won't be all you're going to lose."

"For _what_?"

Friedrich's snort could rival Hans' in amount of emotions it expressed.

"Oh, I don't know! Uhm, wait, wait… what could it be? Hm-hm-hm… Oh, I know! For breaking the nose off my statue! No?"

"You're not being amusing in the slightest."

"I'd be a terrible jester.", Friedrich agreed and added more soberly, "But that's beside the point. I don't have to tell you yet another time why you're being punished… And I don't want to listen to any more of this witchcraft bullshit"

Hans told him what Friedrich can do then and Friedrich decided that he had enough of this conversation. He left.

* * *

The same spot was occupied in the evening that day by prince Michael, although the king didn't know about it. When prince stood in the entrance, announced by the guards who were supposed to restrict access in and out of little Hans' suite, youngest of von Schwalbe brothers actually sat in his bed.

"Michael. Nice to see you, especially after Friedrich."

"With his look of a beaten-up docker? I'm not surprised. Hello, Hans. How are you doing?"

"Take a guess", said Hans, standing up and pouring himself from the carafe. "Do you want anything to drink? I've got only water, I'm afraid."

"Our graceful monarch doesn't even let you get drunk?", asked Michael with a smug smile. He rose his hand, revealing that he was keeping a bottle of Westerguard lager in it.

Few moments later they were sitting by the table in gray-and-blue living room of the suite, drinking. Michael let little Hans taste the beer before asking:

"So, tell me, because I'm curious. What actually happened in Arendelle?"

"I bet you've already read the letter the ice queen sent with me.", answered Hans. He did seem to be in better mood, though.

"I did, of course. It didn't mention much beside what you did, though. And it seems like there was a hell of a story behind it."

Little Hans didn't have to be convinced for much more longer and moments later he told the entire tale - without, Michael noticed, denying that he tried to have both princesses killed. Maybe he had already realized that there's no point in that. Even so, Michael decided to take his claims with a grain of salt, although he didn't tell little Hans so.

"It didn't go all that bad.", he stated instead. "I mean, you couldn't have known how the stupid magic works. Or that Elsa's temper tantrum would be so epic."

"Still, I nearly made it.", said Hans, staring into his glass.

"Yep, you nearly did."

They drank for a moment more before Hans looked at Michael with his eyes narrowed.

"How did you get in here, anyway? I'm fairly confident I've heard Friedrich decreeing that nobody except for guards, a servant and _His Majesty_ himself would be allowed to see me."

"Oh, please. This idiot doesn't know about half of the things that are going on in this castle."

Hans nodded with a smile and turned for a moment to a guard standing at the door. The man answered with a bland stare. Michael watched it for a moment before noticing that little Hans' stare was… slightly more calculating than one would expect from him.

That was… unsettling.

"He can hardly keep track of his own family, for that matter.", he said to mask this feeling. "Would you believe what happened in the morning? That little problem princess Anna…"

He didn't finish, because little Hans jumped as if he sat on a needle. Michael rolled his eyes.

"I mean Anna daughter of Friedrich, not princess of Arendelle, you idiot."

"Yes. Right. Sorry. You were saying…?"

"She started to walk on the table! Would you believe? The heiress to the throne, acting like that?"

Hans nodded slowly.

"Yeah, somehow I would believe it."

They were talking for some more time before guard signalized that end of his shift is coming. Michael nodded and they said each other goodbye. Little Hans walked him to the door.

"Anyway, would you try to arrive again?", he asked with a smile. "You're the only person who wishes to talk with me, apart from Friedrich. But he mostly comes to taunt."

"Sure, why not. Uhm, Hans?"

"What? Ouch! I'm sorry!", he said to the guard he just bumped into. "I really am!"

"No problem.", murmured the guard. "You can't go any further, though."

"Sure. Sure. See you Michael."

"See you."

Michael went down the corridor rather pleased with himself. Little Hans, with all his blabbering, has supplied him with enough ammunition to sink Queen Elsa. As to all necessary to sink Friedrich, Michael could come up with it by himself.

* * *

Outside was dark and cloudy, as one of the last rains of the year appeared to be sneaking in the falling night over the vigilant eyes of naval skywatchers. Wind was rising as people were trying to light the lamps and close the shutters before imminent storm. One by one, faint flickers appeared, sometimes a few times before they stayed for good. As per Islanders' tradition, lamps hung outside of the houses had variety of colors, reflecting the professions of people living in there. Here, in Koenigsberg, one could see mostly blue of sailors and green of port workers, but the further from port, the more different ones could be seen - yellow for tailors and shoemakers, white for priests, orange for merchants and so on. Having hung the lamps, Koenigsbergians were retreating back into their houses, closing the door shut to hide from the weather. Streets were empty, save for the few homeless or people who were unlucky enough to have to go out in such a time.

Prince Hans von Schwalbe, graf von Westerguard, leaned on the wall, looking out of the window. It was a thing of beauty in itself - constructed like a mosaic, from a dozen little pieces fit into spiderweb-like iron frame, and yet providing crystal clear view. It wasn't made as such only to inspire awe, though. The frame prevented anything - or anybody - bigger than a couple of fingers from going through it. Doubtlessly that's why Friedrich ordered such a glass pane - the last Hans was there, his window had a much simpler design.

That problem had been solved, though. In many ways, Hans considered it to be a lucky day, as far as you could justify anything with luck. He though he'd have to wait more time before circumstances favoured him, and yet there he was, both parts of the plan in their place.

He wasn't very sure about the weather, though. On one hand, it made him virtually invisible unless he was in range of one of the golden lamps signifying aristocracy. On the other, it brought the promise of rain, and rain would be major setback.

The clock in his head told him that there was an hour left to the guard shift throughout the castle. He turned around to see the guard watching him from suite's door.

"You won't mind if I close the door, Bernard, will you?", he asked politely. "I'd rather change without anybody watching me."

It was a worked out routine already. Bernard - Hans made an effort to learn names of his watchers - nodded and entered the living room.

"Good night, prince Hans.", he said.

"Good night, Bernard.", answered Hans without moving away from the window. Guard closed the door to the bedroom and a moment later Hans heard the key being turned in the lock.

He waited some time to make sure Bernard exited the suite. When a muffled sound of the outside door being shut reached his ears, he walked quickly to the drawer under the mirror. From there he took a small key he had stolen from Patrick when he was walking Michael to the door, and another one, stolen from the woman that cleaned his suite. He checked if all is fine with them, then opened the door to his closet with another key. Friedrich made sure that all of Hans' outdoor clothes were taken from him, but that didn't bother Hans all that much. It was still the time of the year when winter indoor attire was suitable for going out at night.

Moments later, with a small lamp, purse and carafe of water hanging from his belt, he carefully put the guard's key into small hole in the window's frame, then turned. Lock, well-oiled by the servant upon Hans' insistence and threat, turned soundlessly. He opened the window.

The wind, thankfully, wasn't yet strong enough to pull it out of his hands. It smelled of sea and rain. Hans breathed in and smiled. That was step one. Now time for step two.

As a child, Hans was climbing the castle walls, roofs and balconies a lot, especially after he learned just how much he can eavesdrop that way. It had proven useful in Arendelle, with princess Anna jumping all around their palace like a wildwoman, and it was about to prove useful right now.  
The grips were where he remembered them to be. Having exited the room entirely, he started to climb down, hand by hand, foot by foot.  
One of the grips seemed to be worn out, though. Suddenly Hans found himself hanging by one feet and one hand, twenty meters over the ground level. He cursed silently, trying to grab something else, with his hand aching more and more. The damn grip kept on escaping him and the shoe was only scratching the wall…

Finally he managed to do it. He hanged, nearly hugging the wall, for a moment, then looked to the sides, up and down. Apart from faraway guards at the castle wall, standing by the torchlight under small roof, entire place seemed abandoned. Hans resumed his descent.

When he felt the decoration of the window on the lower floor, he started to walk to the left, towards the guards' path. That was the riskiest part. He bet that in such weather the watchmen would be hiding under roofs, but if even one proven more dutiful than others, or if he heard something suspicious enough to check it, then he could come from behind the corner at the worst possible moment. Then all chances would be lost, as Friedrich would be sure to put Hans in a room with either no windows, or ones too small for him to fit through.

With such unhappy thoughts, he slowly approached the corner, stepping on the marble window decorations as he did so many times before. Finally he extended his left leg and searched with it for the wall's battlements. The worst moment to be discovered… He found it and move his body weight on the left leg, then moved his hands until he was hugging the corner from both sides. He then moved his other leg, pushed himself away from the wall, turned around and jumped off the battlement on the guards' path.

He breathed deeply, then looked around. When he noticed light under the roof, he crouched immediately and moved close to the outside battlement. Unfortunately, the roof and two guards underneath it stood between him and the tower that would lead him to the servants' exit. He cursed silently again and set on waiting.

About twenty minutes later, by the count of the clock in his head, the time for the shift has come. Guards must had realized the same, for one of them yawned, turned to his companion and said something with a sour smile. The other nodded and both of them started to walk towards the same tower Hans was aiming at. Prince waited until they walked about two meters, then followed, first looking back. The other guards, it seemed, were waiting for their successors as they should, or hadn't realized yet that it was shift's time.

When the guards disappeared in the tower, Hans stood up and run through the remaining meters. Hearing voices, he stopped instantly and ducked to the small space between tower entrance and the castle's outer wall.

Moment later the shift, still half-blind in the dark, emerged from the tower, chatting between themselves and cursing the weather. None of them even turned back to look in the deep corner where Hans hid, nor did they stop for any reason. They were passing by him for about a quarter of a minute before going out of Hans' earshot. Last pair of them stopped at the closest post, rest passed by to relieve the rest. Hans waited few more seconds, listening for any latecomers, but none appeared.

He had very short time before the rest of the just ended shift would be coming the same way, and they were sure to notice him. Glancing at the closest pair, Hans jumped to the tower and disappeared inside.

Jumping two steps at once, he made it down, then stopped by the entrance. It seemed that nobody was outside, so he walked out, keeping a calm pace in case somebody was looking from the windows, and walked in the shadow to the small gate the servants used. When he reached it, he pulled out the second key out of his pocket and put it in its lock. He started to turn it.

"Hello, mister." He froze as he heard the voice from the other side. "Finishing late, aren't we?"

He calmed himself down, thinking. It was the guard, of course it was the guard. They wouldn't leave the back entrance to the castle unguarded.

"Yeah, you know how it is.", he said, trying to imitate singsong accent of Westerguard Island as he opened the gate. "Do this, do that, do schmat… What's 'working hours'?"

"Ha! You're not alone in that!", answered the guards. Closing the gate behind him, Hans smelled the oil from the lamp the man held. He didn't rise his head, just in case.

"Be sure to come home before it starts raining."

"I will. Have a nice night!", he answered, starting to walk down the alley.

"Impossible, but thanks. Goodnight!"

And with that, Hans escaped Schloss Schwalbe.

* * *

The sun hadn't appeared yet when Captain Valdemar Schwalzmaar of small merchant ship _Lucky Zephyr _finished inspecting his vessel and turned to his wife.

"Well, seems like the storm spared us", he said. "This time."

"Stop doomsaying.", Lidka Schwalzmaar advised him. "We'd better prepare _Zephyr _to leave if you really want to catch the first high tide."

"Well, I do, even though we probably won't manage it. Wake up the rest of those sleepyheads, would you?"

An hour later the a quarter of the sun was already over the horizon, shining on roofs and cobbled streets wet with the night's rain. The crew of _Lucky Zephyr _was close to meeting her captain's another mad deadline. Valdemar himself was finishing the morning tea, screaming at his crew from time to time just to preserve his image, when he noticed a stranger approaching, with _Zephyr _clearly his destination. The man, soaked redhead with striking green eyes, stopped in front of the ship and looked at Valdemar with a pleasant smile.

"Hello?"

Schwalzmaar leaned out of the ship towards the stranger. Man was rather well dressed, even though the clothes seemed worn out. Or maybe it was the rain that made them look like it.

"Hello!", he answered. "How can I help you?"

"Folk down the pier told me you're swimming to Westerguard island?", man answered, unsure.

"Yeah, that's true."

"Would you take a passenger?", he asked with obvious hope in his eyes. "I can pay."

Valdemar considered. Man - more like older teenager - looked wealthy enough for Schwalzmaars to squeeze some nice money out of him. Valdemar looked at his wife. Lidka shrugged, so he turned back to the man, still staring up at him.

"Sure, why not. Gangplank is to your right."

"Thank you, sir!"

Half an hour later _Lucky Zephyr _passed the Koenigsberg Port lighthouse and entered the Inner Sea. They've barely managed to catch the high tide.


	5. Chapter 5: Missing data

_Koenigsberg_

King Friedrich's fury was a thing to fear. Guards on the castle walls tried their best to blend in with the battlements as they've heard shouts and screams of rage coming from the window. Glass, spiderweb-framed like the one in prince Hans' bedroom, was broken a long ago, when massive ebony chair hit it with full force of six-feet-tall man. Now people listened in fear to the sound of broken furniture, kicked objects, shattered glass and roars of fury piercing the morning air. They haven't heard His Majesty to be this furious for a long time and they were waiting for the his next coherent words like a convict for the arrival of executioner.

It must've been an hour before His Majesty ran out of the things he could smash or rip into pieces. After that, the long awaited and yet feared silence fell as the people on the walls and in the courtyard stopped and listened to hear whom will the royal wrath befall.

Finally, after long minutes, the scream - worn down and much calmer, but scream nonetheless - was heard:

"I want to see captain Braun! Right _f _now!"

Commander of Kingsguards was known as something of party pooper and joykill, but right this moment, the entire crew of Schloss Schwalbe pitied him.

* * *

In contrast to his servants' urban legends, Friedrich preferred to take his rage out on objects rather than people. Thus when captain Eduard Braun entered the royal suite, His Majesty was waiting in the anteroom of royal suite, having changed into clean clothes and holding a glass of fine Coronian vodka.

"Take a seat.", he said harshly when Braun saluted. After commander did that, Friedrich pierced him with a stare.

"How. How the hell did this happen."

"Well, Your Majesty…", Braun wriggled nervously in his seat, too comfortable for his taste and yet absolutely uncomfortable under his lord's eyes. "He said goodnight to corporal Schwarz and guard closed the door, just like every night… and when corporal Wittbrott came to change Schwartz, he opened the door to check if all is fine, just like every night… Only he found the window open and no prince Hans."

"What time was that?"

"About two o'clock at night, Your Majesty."

"And you didn't wake me up because…?"

Because Braun wanted to find prince Hans and bring him back before His Majesty found out about anything, which would save him the scene of royal wrath in the middle of the night. Alas, no such luck, apart from the fact that wrath was postponed to the morning. Prince Hans was absolutely gone and there was no idea where he might be.

"I… hoped to solve this problem before you awoke, Your Majesty."

"Ah… You hoped to. Well, that obviously didn't happen."

"Uhm, yes, Your Majesty. It didn't."

"It's so nice you agree with me." King's voice was dripping with acid. "Now tell me - how did Hans, first: managed to open himself the window, second: managed to go past your guards without being noticed, and third: exited the castle with no one the wiser?"

"Uhm, Your Majesty… As to the first case, he obviously opened the window with the key. There are only three keys to this window total and I'm collecting them all…"

"How hard it is to collect three keys, really?"

"Not hard at all, unless one happens to be missing, Your Majesty."

"Ah… and who did it belong to?"

Braun didn't answer until king's stare became beyond endurance.

"It was supposed to be in possession of guard at the door. None of them remember who was the last man to hold it, though."

"How many of them are there?"

"Four."

"Arrest them."

"Your Majesty…!", Braun nearly jumped from his seat; king's stare put him back in it.

"You've heard me. One of them either gave Hans the key or let himself be robbed of it. They are all to be held in the castle prison until one of them reveals himself to be guilty of either cooperation with prisoner or criminal negligence."

Braun wanted to argue, but His Majesty was obviously in no mood for that.

"Yes, Your Majesty.", he said finally.

"Great. Now, how did he get by the guards and gates?"

Braun took a deep breath, not wishing to send any more of his man into prison and yet not willing to mislead or uninform his king.

"It must've happened during the midnight guard shift, Your Majesty. Guards go back and forth then and it would be easy for a man to slip through."

"Ah. Indeed."

That didn't bode well.

"So, captain, it is your job to design _new_ procedures for Kingsguards that will take such a possibility into account."

And how am I supposed to do that? My people are not clockwork mechanism, to work perfectly regardless of their mood!, thought Braun. But again, king was in no mood to argue.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Wonderfully. You can go now."

Braun stood up, saluted and went to the exit. King's voice stopped him by the door.

"Ah, Braun? I want all the sea traffic from Zisch stopped, wherever the port, and Hans' posters send around. Set the price of ten thousand marks to anyone who'll find him… or no, fifty thousand. And no ship leaves unless Kingsguards or Cityguards check the crew and the vessel."

Oh, dear. Merchant and fishing guilds will be screaming any moment now.

"Of course, Your Majesty."

"Great. Dismissed."

* * *

_Isenberg_

As it happened, Margaret knew someone in the Traders' Guild as well, so they were admitted rather quickly and with warmer feelings than one might expect. Guildmaster, middle-aged man named Treschi, was more or less the same as usual Confederate officials Eric met - focused on profit and full of feeling of superiority. At the end of the day, though, it seemed like their negotiations were going rather well.

Of course now there was this little matter that neither Eric nor Margaret mentioned anything to _Weselton _officials. They didn't tell Treschi about it and guildmaster was apparently convinced that heir apparent and his wife are there as an official delegation, albeit small one. He also seemed to believe that Weseltonians would rather their dealings remain a secret, although Eric had no idea why would they.

"So, what now?", he asked, trying to keep his voice normal. He still hadn't talked with Margaret about mysterious Felix Drachner or what is her connection to him. He didn't feel like confronting her about it either.

"I think we should tell your parents about it.", she answered. "They don't know anything about it, after all."

"Unless they actually started to do the same in another Confederated Realm.", Eric noticed grimly and Margaret chuckled.

"Oh, dear, I hope not."

After a moment she put out a fan and started to wave it. It was rather a gesture of contemplation than cooling, as the temperatures were still wondrously pleasant.

"We don't have any ambassadors in Isenwerk, right?", she asked.

"No, I'd go to them already.", answered Eric. "We do have one in Runich, though, that's less than two days ride from here."

"Then I guess we should send the message there, telling them what we'll doing."

"At least they won't be surprised this way.", he agreed.

"Sure. Let's send somebody to Weselton, too."

"Yeah, right."

Eric wondered if one of her ideas has some sort of hidden purpose. He decided he need to watch her very closely if she'll insist on sending messages herself.

Short visit to the courier station and they paid for coded message to Runich. Eric wrote it and sent it, keeping an eye at Margaret all the time, but she seemed more interested in the exposition of lady coats across the street than in sending any messages. Maybe I'm seeing shadows, he asked himself. Maybe there's no hidden purpose and Drachner is "only" her friend…

No. They were planning something. Who could Drachner be? Eric roamed around the courier station, pretending to be interested in its workings. It wasn't as if there was anything complicated - messages were sorted and passed to the couriers, who got on their horses and left. But it gave him time to think.

He repeated Drachner's and Margaret's conversation in his head. Drachner said that his business depends on his ships' ability to escape the navies, and that he may help Margaret with the cut trade. Smuggler, then. What would be smuggler's business there?

Well, smugglers profit from no official trade. Then he shouldn't want Weselton to resume trade with Arendelle, because right now anything on that path would have to go through him or other smugglers. But then, if queen Elsa really did control ice - and Drachner seemed confident that it was no wild rumor - his business in the kingdom was endangered.

What could he do then?, Eric asked himself, trying to think like a smuggler lord. Either depose of the queen or find new territories. Which would be easier, then? To Eric's mind, obviously the latter - but perhaps there was simply nowhere Drachner could expand to? No, they wouldn't try to kill the queen…

And what was Margaret doing in the middle of all that, anyway?

He nearly jumped when she patted him on the shoulder.

"Hon, you've been staring at this horse for the last three minutes. I think it starts getting nervous."

"Uhm, yes, yes. You're right, honey. I kind of stopped for a moment."

"I've noticed! Shouldn't we go to the port?"

They arrived at the port when the sun was already setting and it was unlikely any ship would be leaving now. Calm in that assumption, they went to search for a vessel that would carry their message to Weselton. Sadly, it seemed like nobody would be going that way for the next few days.

"And what about this one?", asked Margaret, pointing at the ship by the next pier with her chin. Eric looked at it.

"I'm no sailor, but it looks like it's about to fall apart any minute now."

"Ha! You don't know ships, hon. That one might be worn out, but it seems sturdy enough to cross the Inner Sea."

"If you say so.", answered Eric, not really convinced. But he wasn't the one with seven sailor brothers, so he didn't argue.

When they approached it, his confidence wavered even more. _Cockroach,_ as it was called, judging by the barely visible black pain on dirt-grey hull, appeared to be crewed by bunch of sleepy thugs. It did seem to have much space to put sails on, though, so maybe it was fast.  
Eric was reminded of his earlier musings about smuggling. Well, let's see how this will play out.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, do you happen to be swimming to Weselton anytime soon?", Margaret asked umpteenth time.

'Gentleman', short man picking something from his teeth, stopped and turned to her. Fact that a lady talked to him seemed to have awed him slightly.

"Ma'be", he answered with thick accent. "D'pends on th' cap'n."

He turned to look at the man who was untangling some rope at leisurely pace.

"Ey, Cap'n! We goin' to Weaseltown soon?"

Eric gritted his teeth, hearing the moniker, and looked at his wife. Surprisingly, Margaret seemed hopeful.

"It might be the only ship that will be here soon enough.", she noticed silently when 'cap'n' stood from his ropes and started to approach them.

"I don't think I'm that despaired.", answered Eric.

"Well, we can't really back off without excuse."

"I'm pretty sure they wouldn't mind if we left them alone."

They stopped talking when captain came to the railing. Eric notices that he looked much, much better off than his ship. Well, that says something about him, doesn't it?

"Yeah, we're leaving for the city come tomorrow morning.", he said in a voice much more pleasant to hear that his subordinate's. Well, I guess he makes most of the business deals away from his ship, though Eric.

"That's wonderful!", said Margaret. "We're trying to find a ship that would pass a message there, as quick as possible!"

"Ah, then you won't find anything faster than the _Cockroach_.", said the captain. "What's there to pass?"

Margaret passed him the envelope, saying:

"If you could please send it from the port."

"Sure, I just might."

Eric understood what captain's going at and pain the man two silvers. He took it with gratitude, obviously expecting less.  
They said goodbye and left. Before they were out of earshot, Eric heard a scrap of conversation:

"Cap'n, ain't that two of them envelopes?"

"Maybe. But they paid us two silvers, haven't…"

How could I miss it?, Eric asked himself, furious. I wasn't even looking at her hands when she passed the message to the captain! Damn me!  
"So, what now?", he asked out loud, thinking frantically what might've been in the second message.

"I know of a wonderful diner by the seaside, if it's still open.", she said cheerfully.

"Sure, let's go there.", he said, although more than anything, he wanted solitude to berate himself and second-guess Margaret.

* * *

_Marching army, in the Arendelle mountains_

Kai felt like kicking the horse. Powerfully, if possible. However, Spot's kick would probably be stronger than his, so major contented himself with few murmured offenses towards horse's parents.

Next to him, Mikkeli's reindeer snorted with animal amusement. Svivan, as quartermaster apparently called him, proven to be first creature to laugh at Kai's expense when major was proving himself less than proficient with a horse and only Christian's obvious love of the animal stopped Kai from commissioning reindeer to meat grinder.

"Got him back under control?", asked Mikkeli, turning back to Kai. "'Cause I'd rather he didn't try to eat my shoes again."

"Yeah… I think.", said Kai. "You were saying…?"

"Uhm, yes. How the hell did you already managed to lose two hundred rifles?"

Kai's sharp movement in the saddle caused Spot to stop.

"_What?_"

Mikkeli backed to Kai and kicked Spot lightly to the side.

"Move, you lazy cart-horse."

Spot, o, wonder of wonders, actually resumed his pace. Mikkeli turned to Kai.

"Look, I get it, soldiers lose their stuff all the time, but you might think three feet long musket would be more… you know… less loseable."

"Well, it is. And we didn't even get to our training post yet." What the hell, Kai thought to himself. There wasn't much purpose for musket out of combat or training practice and nobody was practicing shooting here, in the narrow pass they were crossing right now. Maybe somebody was hunting? But no, Kai didn't recall hearing any shots for two days army's been out either.

"That's why I'm surprised", said Mikkeli. "Some said they lost it and other told me theirs are broken. They even showed some to me and I tell you, it looks like cart rode over them. But majority is lost. Maybe Berg was right to ask for all those extras."

"Maybe. But I think you should talk with their commander."

"You think I didn't? It's mostly the…", he thought for a moment, then checked. "second battalion that's losing muskets."

"Major Andersen? Odd, he's not the one to lose equipment like that."

"Perhaps. He didn't seem too fond of me."

Right. Mikkeli had some hard time making acquaintances in the command staff, especially seeing how he wasn't very inclined to make them in the first place. More and more often, it was Kai who had to communicate with people on his behalf. On the other hand, Mikkeli seemed to be realizing - slowly but still - that this sort of approach was making him absolutely inefficient as quartermaster.  
For now, though, situation was as it was. Kai sighed.

"Alright. I'll talk with him."

* * *

All in all, army managed to cross the pass before sunset and set camp on the wide, mostly flat mountain slope. Weather seemed to favor them - skies were clear and temperature just right, even if a bit chilly. Kai heard from fellow officers that their people, especially newly conscripted, seemed to think that they were blessed by the Queen and that she was making the weather good for them… somehow. By ice powers. If she could make and unmake winter, why not summer?

Kai was inclined to think that she could do it, but it didn't validate talking about Her Majesty as if she was saint walking the earth. It sure as hell caused problems for army chaplains. Thankfully, it was not his thing to worry about. He had other.

Andersen told him to come in before he finished talking to his aide. He entered the tent and found major over a bunch of paperwork, steaming tea by his hand.

"Let me tell you, Andreas, that's the best way to destroy weeks of work."

"Thanks, paper master. I shall take it under consideration."

He did take the cup off the table, though.

"You want some?"

Moment later, they both sat on folding chair, drinking.

"What is it, then?", said Andersen. "Or no, let me guess - Mikkeli sent you."

"Yeah, you're right."

"Ha! Maybe he should've gotten himself his own aide instead of borrowing general's all the time."

"Do you really believe Supplies would send yet another man before the end of the year?"

"Nah, not really. But my point stands."

Andreas leaned in his chair towards Madsen.

"Kai, I've got no idea what the hell is going on there. People just lose their rifles all the damn time and I know it's happening in other units as well, but hell, sixty in two days?! I can't imagine what could cause it and my aide is as helpful as a piece of wood!"

Kai's eyes narrowed. As far as he remembered, Andreas seemed to have good rapport with his aide.

"Ebbe didn't go with you when you took the Second?"

"Nope, they finally promoted him. But damn it, Kai…", he lowered his voice. "I feel like a stranger in my own battalion. And I know there _is _some reason why they keep on losing and destroying their guns, but I've got no idea _what_ it might be."

That didn't sound good at all, especially the fact that Andreas' officers didn't feel like making friends with him. That was total opposite of what people usually did.

"Maybe they're hoarding them somewhere?", asked Kai, worried. "And what happened to the previous commander of Second, for that matter?"

"Nonsense. What would they do with them?", asked Andreas. "As to the latter, major Friis got himself promoted to colonel and general Kristiani snatched him to the capital."

Kristiani. Kai couldn't recall whether or not he supported activists, but perhaps it was worth finding out. He made a mental note to find a way to check it.

"Alright, not much you can do, then. But tell your people that from now on Mikkeli will give them only one for each five they've lost."

"Oh, great. I just hope they won't start losing more to make up for the difference."

Kai only smiled sourly.


	6. Chapter 6: Loyal subjects

_Westerguard_

_Lucky Zephyr _hit the pier without much force. Moorings were tied to the bollards, sails were dropped, and all other little details accompanying a ship stopping in the port were tended to by the crew, eager to do anything before captain Schwalzmaar starts screaming. He still did, just to stay in practice.

Westerguard was a small, misty island, and one composed almost entirely of a huge mountain for that. It did, however, had a shielded bay and it was the last safe port for a long time for ships swimming to the Southernmost Lands by the Stormbringing Ocean. Before discovery of the Lands, the port was simply a fishing village of indigenous Weste people, with a small keep just to mark Isles' presence here. _After _the discovery, though, it became one of the richest islands in the Isles, and the keep was elevated to a full-fledged fort with naval port attached. Even then, though, Westerguard duty or leadership were considered to be dubious honors, what with the island being nearly a week's way from Zisch and Koenigsberg. That caused the place to be staffed almost entirely by Weste, who in turn made some profits from all the ships stopping on the way. Most of the money went to the royal treasury, though.

Valdemar Schwalzmaar had no intention of swimming on the Stormbringer. Ocean would swallow his ship in the first days. He was there to sell and buy goods to the so-called pendulums, ships "swinging" between Southernmost port of Chixatua and Westerguard. One of that ships, massive behemoth three times the size of _Zephyr_, was standing next to her, dwarfing the vessel. From its railing a man in characteristic tall Port Service cap leaned out.

"Hello, _Lucky Zephyr_! We'll finish here in a moment and we'll get to you!"

"Understood!", Valdemar shouted back, then looked at his passenger. Hans Soor, as he called himself, seemed already packed and ready to go.

"Shouldn't you wait for the Port Service?"

"Nah, I don't think so." He smiled. "Pretty much everybody knows me here."

"Oh, really?" Valdemar eyed him with new interest. On the way Soor proven himself to be a charming persona, and obviously well-educated one, even if not all too well-versed with actual world.

"Yes, I work in the keep.", he explained.

"Alright." Valdemar nodded. "Then I won't be stopping you… Or maybe I will…"

"Oh…? Oh, right."

Soor opened his pockets and shook out fifteen golden pieces. Valdemar wondered why wouldn't he buy a pouch for them, or why didn't he have any baggage with him, but with how scatterbrained Hans had proven, he might have lost both of them anywhere.

Soor passed him the money and Valdemar counted them quickly in his head.

"All's set. Have a nice time on Westerguard, then."

"You too, thank you. Goodbye!"

He trotted off the ship and went down the pier to the fort road. Weste were short and stocky by default so Hans stuck out like a sore thumb among them. They were turning to see him and indeed, some even said hello as if he was known here.

A moment later Valdemar stopped paying his attention to Soor, as Port Service arrived.

* * *

Once he was sure that he's out of captain's eyeshot, Hans slowed down to more leisurely pace, finding his way in the mist that enshrouded Westerguard nearly three hundred and fifty days a year. Some said that combined with endless clouds spawned by Stormbringing Ocean the atmosphere there was always gloomy, but Hans didn't really mind.

He felt slightly relieved that he didn't have to weasel his way out of payment. He managed to sell some royal goods he took with him when escaping, and when one pawnshop keeper wasn't looking, he took the money the man left in his drawer. He was still worried that it wouldn't be enough to pay greedy captain, but, to his slight amusement, he actually still had some.

Not that it mattered anymore. He was finally on Westerguard.

"Prince Hans!", said some man in the passing. "You're back!"

Hans tried to remember his name - he did recall the face - but failed.

"I am indeed. Is Vaucherd still in charge of the fort?"

"Why wouldn't he?", asked Weste.

"Right. Thank you."

He moved on, answering some hellos on the way. Road to the keep was a twisty one, just flat enough for a horse and paved with stone in case of a rain. It started to fall when Hans was halfway up. At this pace, he thought gloomily, I'll fall ill in the most inconvenient moment.

When he finally reached the gate, he was absolutely soaked. Feeling terribly undignified, he tried to wring and stretch his clothes, but they only seemed to have gotten more wet and crumpled. He resigned himself to knocking on the side door, then, trying to do it louder than rapping raindrops.  
The skinny - for a Weste - man opened the doors, started to say something, then stopped suddenly, with eyes open wide as he recognized the silhouette shrouded in rain.

"Prince Hans!", he nearly shouted. "You… you're…"

"Back.", he finished for the man, then smiled. "Nice to see you, Massoix."

Fort butler blinked a few times, before remembering that he is, indeed, fort butler. He quickly moved to the side, holding the door open.

"Come in, prince, come in! _Bon sang_, you must be soaking wet!"

"I am", Hans agreed and enter, grateful to finally get off the rain. Inside, the fort was warm and dry. Hans got out of his white jacket and passed it to Massoix.

"Prince, we've heard you were arrested!"

"Well, I was. Notice the past tense, though."

Massoix stopped, then whistled. A moment later a wide grin adorned his slim face. Hans took it as a good sign.

"If you could please get me some tea and dry clothes? I hadn't changed for days now."

"Of course, prince. Of course. On it! Follow me, please. It's good you came today, I had the living quarters cleared just in the morning!", Massoix started to sprout words like bargaining shopkeeper, leading Hans down the corridor. "Servants murmured, what for?, nobody's here!, but what do you know? You're here, after all…"

Hans followed, relegating himself to silence and considering his next moves.

* * *

Few hours later, warm and dry, Hans was sitting in the war room, middle sized chamber with a huge table in the center. Around, most of fort's officers had sitting with him with various hot drinks of their choice. All Weste, apart from one, but admiral Hauser, who fell out of royal favor after drunken incident involving prince Ferdinand, was no more crown lover than the rest of them.

"Good to see you again, prince Hans.", he started, then took a sip of precious coffee from the south.

"Thank you. It's really good to see you too.", answered Hans, looking around at ten man gathered with him. "All of you."

"Pleasure is mutual, sir.", said Mousac, artillery commander only few years older than prince himself. "There are wildest rumors being told about what happened up north."

"You wouldn't believe them, sir.", added Vaucherd, garrison colonel, and the highest ranking officer here apart from Hauser and Hans. He leaned forward.

"May I ask, sir, what happened there?"

"Oh, you wouldn't believe…", Hans started to spin his tale.

All in all, he told them a good story. It had a hapless prince, who fell in the trap set for him by his heartless older brother. The brother conspired with calculative queen who had no morals. Hapless prince was framed and sent back in chains. His brother order him kept in those chains - on the outside, because of diplomatic concerns, but on the inside, brother was happy to get rid of his meddling, troublesome sibling. Just as he planned with the queen.

Hans even managed to weave Elsa's ice magic in the story. Weste believed in magic and their folklore had a thousand stories of evil witches who controlled terrifying powers. Hans had to use the phrase "Witch Queen" only once and they picked it up.

Perhaps, if they were to examine the details, they might've figured out something doesn't add up - especially Hauser, who didn't seem all convinced about magic. But all in all, is wasn't really about _what _the story was. It was about _who told it_.

King Friedrich made three mistakes with the Weste. First was establishing absurdly high royal taxes on all ships passing through the port. Weste saw all the wealth of Isles and Southernmost Lands passing in front of them - but them themselves got only scrapes of it. That was bad enough in itself.  
Second mistake, though, was much, much worse from Friedrich's perspective. He thought Weste to be just another bunch of Islanders, but Weste weren't Islanders. They didn't think king could just order them around like another bunch of northerners, sending his tax collectors and officials who would impose themselves on locals, telling them how Islanders do their things without any consideration for how Weste would prefer to do them. Worse, those tax collectors and officials considered himself to be above such backward, "nearly barbarian" "Islanders" and acted accordingly. Kings position appeared similar, as, when he started his reign, the only island he didn't visit during his grand tour was Westerguard. Weste didn't like it at all.  
It was third mistake that would cripple the king, though. Having proven himself to not care about them, Friedrich had sent his youngest brother to rule them, and Hans proven to pay attention, to side with them against royal officials, to help if there was trouble, to bother learning some Westenian language, to _care_.

And Weste loved him.

* * *

_Weselton_

Private port of Weselton princes was placed at some distance from the city port, behind of great curtain-like cliffs that form the entirety of Princedom's small coast. When _Midnight Glory _sailed between two majestic stone walls, Eric saw his parents already waiting on the pier. They were both dressed rather lighter than him, but after Isles and Confederacy, air in Weselton seemed chilly, almost cold, despite clear skies.

"They must've gotten a message from one of patrol ships", Margaret said.

"Yes, apparently.", he agreed, absent-minded. He was wondering about other things.

Did his parent's get his message? And who had gotten the other one? After sending the post, Margaret kept close to him, even dragging him for a dress fitting. To his eyes, it seemed uncannily similar to the one she usually wore in Weselton when not at official events, but he said it's lovely, just in case.

When they moored, couple bid farewell to the captain and walked down.

"Welcome back!", said princess Elisabeth, Eric's mother. "We've gotten your message!"

"That's great", Eric said, at least one worry put to rest.

"Indeed. Nice to see you, son, Margaret.", said, much more calmly, prince Charles. "How did negotiations go?"

"Wonderfully!", Margaret exclaimed cheerfully.

"We've got official trade act in my luggage.", added Eric. "I'd like Jethro to take a look at it, but I think all is fine…?"

"It's not like we could do anything about it now.", noticed father. "Let's go, you look like snowmen in all those coats."

Sometime later, in the castle chambers, Margaret, Eric and his parents sat by the chimney, heated with Weselton coal. Lord Jethro, Royal Treasurer, looked at the document and found it faultless, then took it with him. Family engaged in idle talk, subject of which quickly turned to Arendelle.

"Yes, I am fairly confident that Elsa has some power over ice.", said mother, answering Margaret's question. "We have spies in Arendelle, after all."

Margaret was silent for a moment. Eric decided to ask the question she was probably thinking.

"You… are not kidding, I assume?"

"She's not.", answered father. "Our people reported that she can actually cover everything around her into ice. And there are the reports of… ice golem, I think you could call it, roaming around the palace."

"It's not like she's making any secret of it.", mother noted. "Would you believe she actually organizes ice rinks for children in the palace courtyard?"

"In the middle of the summer?", was the first Margaret managed to say.

"Yes! Exactly!" Mother nodded sagely. "One of our people actually went to visit it and he actually saw her making it. By…" She thrust her hands up in the air.

Eric nodded, slowly. He was slightly curious about the fact that it didn't seem to be much of a surprise for him. Well, he did hear Drachner talking about it as a matter of fact, and he did read his uncle's letter and initial reports. And whatever Islanders might claim and believe in, in Weselton existence of magic was considered more of a fact than fiction.

"That's kind of a silly waste of ability.", Margaret said, obviously composing herself. "I mean - such a power, and she makes _ice rinks_?"

"That's not silly, it's worrying.", father corrected her. "Just think. She froze her entire country, and now she relegated herself to little pools of ice. She must have enormous… power reserve, so to call it. More, her first great power display was giant in scale and she's said to have been out of control then."

"So you think she's practicing?", Eric asked.

"Yeah. The only question is what for." Father nodded. Before Eric had time to start worrying, prince continued.

"Either way, our generals requested a meeting today. Eric, I'd like you to accompany me at it. And Margaret, could you go with Beth to the official announcement of new trade deal? We've scheduled it for the afternoon."

Eric was just starting to protest when his mother cut in.

"Sorry, kids, but's that's how it is."

* * *

General Potter brought a map with him to the meeting, which Eric considered as a bad sign. It meant that he wanted to move army out, and father gave no indication that something's planned.

Apart from Potter, generals Windsor and Carter were present, forming the entirety of Weselton's land command. They were accompanied by colonel Hunter, who, officially cavalry officer, was actually chief of intelligence. He started the conversation after greetings and bows.

"Arendelle army is out on maneuvers.", he stated and nodded to general Potter, who spread the map on the table. It showed both nations, North Mountain and mountain range Weseltonians called Broken Back, which formed the border between the two.

"They're here", Potter picked up, pointing at the small valley between northern edge of Broken Back and western slope of North Mountain. "And they've apparently been there for the last few days."

Eric nodded, slightly worried. There seemed to be no passages between the valley and Weselton grounds, and if Arendelle was thinking of invasion, there were better ways to do it.

"They don't seem able to endanger us from here.", he noticed. "It's way over the snow line."

"Sure, all passages are probably frozen.", said general Windsor, twirling his aristocratic mustache. "As long as somebody who can defreeze them doesn't come along, that is."

Eric understood their worry now. Queen Elsa was definitely capable of it, so yes, invasion became more probable danger.

"In all honesty, gentleman", said his father, "Do you have any other proof that it's anything more than just a regular training session? Royal Army is known for them, after all."

"That", answered Hunter, "depends how you treat the fact that everybody in the city seems convinced that maneuvers are here…"

He pointed at the other side of North Mountain, where it turned into maze of jagged mounts and hills. Eric leaned over the map, curious and worried.

"They're all lying?"

"Or repeating what they've been told.", said Hunter. "Information could come from two sources only."

"The queen and the Royal Command.", father finished grimly.

"Indeed. There's also the fact that they cut all their ties to us. Historically, that was usually followed by declaration of war."

Eric nodded, feeling something to be very wrong. Why would Arendelle attack Weselton? Apart from last event with uncle Andrew, two countries were perfectly civil neighbors for all the years they've existed. Was uncle's stupidity enough to end that? Eric wholeheartedly hoped not.  
Maybe if we gave them uncle Andrew, Elsa wouldn't be so furious with us. But no, that didn't make any sense either for Eric. Arendellans had sent him to them, after all. If they wanted to keep him, why not keep him?  
Overhead, he heard father's question about generals' plans. Potter answered.

"We'd like to ask for you permission to send troops to the Broken Back. They wouldn't cross the border, of course, but I'd rather have someone there, just in case Arendellans make any sudden moves."

There was silence for the moment as Eric examined the small symbols on the edge between valley and Broken Back. I need better map, he decided finally, just as his father said:

"You have my permission. No attacking them unless you're under attack yourselves, though."

"Of course, sir.", Windsor answered for the four of them and they saluted.

"Is there anything else?", asked father.

"No, sir. We'd like to start planning this operation, though."

"Of course. Feel dismissed."

Two generals and colonel bowed, then left. General Carter, though, lingered for a moment.

"What is it, general?", asked Eric. "You weren't speaking at all during the meeting."

"It's nothing specific, Your Grace.", answered Carter, looking at the map. "I… was just wondering."

He shot the last glance at the valley, then bowed quickly and exited. Eric looked at him father.

"I don't like it at all.", he said simply.

"Me neither.", his father confirmed, looking as if enormous weight was put on his shoulders.

* * *

_Arendelle_

General Rasmus Kristiani exited the palace trying to keep anger boiling in him from showing outside. He passed the weekly ice rink, barely noticing crowd of cheerful children on it, and approached stableman holding the reins of his horse.

"Thank you", he murmured and thrown the man a copper, then saddled up and rode out of the castle grounds. Passing through the usual street crowds, he had some time to think.

Queen Elsa was impossible to convince anyhow, and it's not like Kristiani hadn't tried before. In many ways, she was as stubborn as her father - only in her case, it was worse, because late king Agdar would understand that Kristiani's idea is the best one out there. But no, Queen refused, and by doing so, gave Kristiani no choice.

He felt his anger melt, replaced by anticipation and a dose of excitement. He wasn't the plan's only author - Berg and Olafson were on it as well - but he was in the capital and it was him who'd give the signal that would start it all. Leaving the city on the road to Camp East, he kicked his horse into gallop, not to waste time. He felt himself smiling. Theirs was an audacious plan, but if it worked, it would pay off beautifully.

Guard barely managed to open the door before Kristiani jumped in on his horse. Stopping it in the middle of parade ground, he called to his aide. The man appeared a moment later.

"Send the messages.", Kristiani ordered. "You know which ones."


	7. Chapter 7: Dead man walking

_Slope of North Mountain, Arendelle_

Kai took all the envelopes from the messenger and looked through them quickly, then passed two of them to Mikkeli, who was standing patiently few steps back, feeding carrots to the reindeer. The other two messages were for general Berg - one from Supplies and one from general Kristiani. Kai looked at Supplies envelope and shot a glance at Christian, who already opened one message.

"Sorry", quartermaster said, without looking up. "No more muskets. Not that I'm surprised, you know."

"Me neither.", Kai admitted, received messenger's salute and turned back to small wooden barrack that was general's headquarters. "Andersen won't be happy, though."

"In all honesty? I don't think I care all that much. Yhm, Kai, are you going to leave Spot just standing there?"

"What? Oh." Madsen turned to look at his horse, standing by the camp's entrance and looking thoroughly disappointed. The training camp was finally set nearly a hundred meters over the snow line and horses had to be fed from the sacks, giving Spot nothing to nibble on the ground. Steed compensated by throwing his rider off the saddle and generally being annoying, which was not funny when, beyond trodden paths, everybody was floundering in knee-deep snow.

Kai approached the horse and held his reins.

"Come on, buddy.", he told him and pulled gently. Spot, however, seemed glued to the ground. Kai pulled stronger, with no reaction.

"Oh, come on!", he said, turning back and trying to drag the horse behind him.

Result was something of a forgone conclusion. The moment he was pulling his strongest, Spot stepped forward and Kai landed face in the snow.  
He stood up to see Christian and his reindeer hiding chuckles.

"Yeah, so funny.", he said, collecting general's messages and shaking the snow off.

Christian just shook his head, apparently distrustful of his own mouth. In the distance two man heard the boom, as training musketeers fired a salvo. Mikkeli went serious instantly and looked at the mountain.

"Aren't they afraid they'll cause an avalanche?", he asked Kai.

"Engineers checked it. They say risk is immeasurably low."

"Oh-kay.", said Christian, obviously not really believing engineers. Mountaineers probably have more first-hand knowledge than Arendellans, thought Kai, but general Berg didn't have any problems with it either, so well.

"Come on, you sack of annoying.", he told Spot. "Or you'll be the next target practice."

The horse apparently concluded that his master is angry enough with him to make good on his promise, because it obeyed instantly.

* * *

General's quarters were made of wooden logs and heated by metal stove army carried with it for that purpose, keeping them pleasantly warm. Berg was sitting without his jacket by the table, reading some book. After Kai passed the messages, general looked at them, holding the Supplies' one between two fingers as if it was dead fish.

"No more toys for us for now, huh?", he said distastefully.

"Apparently.", Kai agreed. "At least that's what Mikkeli was told."

General cursed under his breath and took a sip of his whiskey (medical purposes, he said), then looked at the message from general Kristiani and froze suddenly.

"Kai, boy, find yourself something to do for the next hour, would you?"

Madsen blinked, unused to general acting like that.

"Uhm, sure, sir.", he saluted and exited, wondering.

* * *

_Koenigsberg_

Cell was eight feet wide and eight feet long. It held four man, a bucket and a flat sack filled with straw, which, out of politeness, one could call a mattress. In the beginning, four men took turns sleeping on the sack. Lately, however, one of them seemed to be falling out of favor with the others.

Sergeant Patrick Schneider sat in the corner of the cell, his back to the bars, while the others looked at him, speaking with each other in hushed tones. Braun gave them all a simple ultimatum: the moment one of them admits he's the one who let the key be stolen is the moment the other three are set free. They already worked out who did this - it's only that perpetrator didn't want to admit it and Braun wouldn't tolerate finger pointing.

Schneider had no intention to confess to the prison guards. In time, he reasoned, they would forget about the entire case and let them all go to free the space. Moreover, if he did confess, he'd become laughingstock of all Kingsguards, and would probably be thrown out of said Kingsguards as well.  
Well, he'd be thrown out either way, really. But this way, he'd avoid mockery and much, much longer imprisonment that would await him if it was clear that he was an idiot who let the keys be stolen from him. Even longer one - if not death sentence outright - would await him had anybody found out the reason why the key was stolen.

He closed his eyes put his chin on the tucked-up knees, depressed. For the first few days, he hoped prince Michael would bail him out, but no such luck. For the next day, he was silently cursing the prince for abandoning someone he promised support to. Oh, yes. Prince Michael was promising much. But Patrick was fairly sure that if it was Friedrich or any other prince who ran such a scheme, he'd do much more to help his man. Because other princes had some shreds of honor. Perhaps apart from Hans. Hans would bail Patrick out mostly because if guard started talking, entire plan would fall apart.

After that day, Patrick was mostly depressing.

He considered talking, on the promise that he'd not be killed. But His Majesty was quick to anger, and who said prince Michael didn't have a man among interrogators to push a knife between shoulders of too talkative minion?

With his eyes closed, Patrick didn't notice the other three standing up and approaching him with darkness in their eyes. When he realized what they're about to do, he wanted to scream, but hit to the solar plexus silenced him successfully.

Beating was quick, painful and professional. By the time prison guards arrived and pulled the others away, Patrick was already half dead.

* * *

_Arendelle_

Major had just finished his paperwork when Berg shoved his heads through the door.

"Kai, I've got to talk with you. Go to my office."

Madsen blinked. Berg seemed unusually serious. That has to be about this message from general Kristiani, he decided, putting the papers in the right file.

"Coming, sir."

"Great." The head disappeared and Kai heard the fading sound of footsteps on the ground.

When he entered general's office, Berg was not alone. With him there were all four colonels, and five of twelve majors. They were all grim, and they were all looking at Kai Madsen. He felt himself shivering.

"Sir?", he asked general, standing in the centre of the group.

"Come here, Kai. Let me explain."

He obeyed and heard one of the officers present close the door behind him.

"So, Kai… How to start it.", general leaned his elbows on the table. "I want to talk to you about safety of Arendelle."

"Sir?", Kai asked, unsure what it meant. General nodded.

"Please, listen to me for a moment."

"Uhm… of course, sir."

General nodded and stated:

"So yes. You are aware that, ever since the Great Freeze and the events at the coronation, we are basically in the state of cold war with everybody apart from Corona."

Kai nodded, not sure if that was true, but full of bad feelings.

"The main problems are, of course, Weselton and the Isles. I'm sure they are plotting a revenge on us even now, preparing to strike on us and raze us to the ground for what we already did and for what they fear we could do, had the Queen put her mind to it. Weselton's ores and army, combined with Isles wealth and navy, means that they could inflict monumental damage on us before finally being stopped."

General leaned forward, looking major straight in the eyes.

"Just think about it, Kai. Perhaps we could stop them. Perhaps Her Majesty would stop them. But think, how many Arendellans, men, women and children, would be killed before that happened? How many fields would burn, how many houses would be destroyed and raided? We've barely managing to stand on our own after Great Freeze. That would be even greater hit for us. Think of the famine, destruction, death."

Visions were terrifying in the detail Kai could create them in his head. He nodded silently.

"We can't have that. We _can't let it happen_, Kai. We must do something and, sadly… Queen appears to be blind to even slightest possibility that action needs to be taken."

Almighty. So that's what he's talking about.

"We've told her about the possibility dozen times, most of which you haven't seen and most of which were in private, where she didn't have to act for the audience. And yet, she's still pretending nothing's happening. So we've had to take matters into our hands.

"Diplomatic options are closed for us. Weselton and Isles must've already decided to act, because for them, speed must be factor. They'll be deaf to all pleads of peace. They'll be afraid of Her Majesty. Did you hear merchants and sailor, calling her Witch Queen? That's no compliment. That's fear, spreading already.  
"But we must act, so there's only one option left for us that will let us preserve Arendelle."

Kai swallowed and said what he thought general's talking about.

"Preemptive attack.", he guessed. "Preventive war."

Berg smiled sourly, nodding.

"You nailed it. However I pity it, there's simply no other option. The only way to protect Arendelle is to attack."

He nodded to himself and continued.

"Isles are obviously too far away and by attacking them, we'd leave Arendelle on the mercy of Weselton. Therefore it's Weselton we have to strike. There is plan in the motion for that and if we manage to succeed, we'll secure Arendelle for years to come."

They're planning a war. Almighty, they're planning to start a war.

"I don't think Her Majesty will be all too happy when she finds out.", Kai managed to say with a lump in his throat. "And I don't think there's a way of waging this war without her finding out eventually."

"No, there isn't. But when the war starts, she'll have no choice but to help us. And if she refuses to aid her people in a war of their survival…"

Berg slowly shook his head.

"Then she's not the queen I would serve."

Kai nodded sharply. Berg leaned even closer.

"Kai, I understand you're stressed and worried. But that's the only way. Can I count on your support?"

The question, expected and yet unexpected, hung in the air. Kai felt himself shivering when his minds came up with thousands pros and cons, old oaths resounded in his head, visions of war floated in front of his eyes…

And suddenly, he made the decision in a heartbeat. He blinked and nodded weakly, not sure to who exactly.

"Yes, sir.", he said. "But I… I just have to…"

He caught his head in his hands, scared of the question whether he was really lying. General nodded, first to him and then to somebody else. Suddenly Kai realized that all around him people relaxed, and that just a moment ago every single one of them was ready to put a sword in his bowels, had he declined.

"You must come to term with this decision.", said general in supportive tone. "I understand. It's not easy one to make."

He stood up.

"Go, catch some fresh air. Have a ride, or a walk. Clear your mind. We'll meet in the afternoon and I'll explain all to you in detail."

"Thank you, sir.", Kai managed to say, then saluted and escaped from the room.

* * *

What should I do?, Kai asked himself as Spot picked a path between the tents. He didn't even noticed that the horse tried to wander in the middle of one. Soldier next to it forced the horse off and wanted to tell major some joke about his horsemanship, but he abandoned the idea the moment he saw Madsen's troubled, absent-minded expression.

What should I do?, Kai asked himself again. They… they aren't traitors. They don't plan a coup. They want to save their queen and save their country from the danger. It won't matter, though, if I denounced them. They're no foreign prince to be diplomatic with. They'd be just as dead as if they planned a coup.

But I can't let them start a war, he decided in his head. General Berg might talk about preventing tragedy, but this war will bring it all. I can't treat it as nothing only because it'll be Weseltonian men, women and children who'll suffer. We don't even know if there's any plan made to attack as. Only conspiracy's fears. They will act on this fears and they'll attack, and it will become self-fulfilling prophecy, because if Weselton will be attacked, Isles will feel endangered as well, and then they will aid Weselton. To save Arendelle, Queen will have no choice but to act… Kai nearly vomited, thinking of all such a combat would bring. Not only death in battle, but death in cold, disease and starvation. Men and children frozen to death. Entire rivers and seas turned into ice in which people and ships would be trapped to die slowly. Field ravaged, cities leveled by man and force of nature. No escape, only death, death, death and dead bodies everywhere.

I can't let the war happen, he told himself. I must stop the war. But… how? I can't send them to death. But I must send them to death. But I mustn't kill the men who want to protect my country. But I must protect my country.

What should I do?

"Sorry to interrupt your brooding", he suddenly heard next to him, "but I've got to talk to you."

He nearly jumped, and Spot stopped, nearly sending him over horse's neck. When he regained his grip, he turned to see Christian, looking at him with obvious worry.

"Ah.. sorry. You startled me."

"I noticed. Need help?"

Sorry, but you can't help me with that, Kai though unhappily. Christian must be out of the loop, he decided, suddenly realizing that all those disappearing muskets must have something to do with Berg's plan. Perhaps they wanted to talk to him when I'll be able to convince him…

"No, thanks. I'm doing well on my own. What is it?"

"Powder supplies, this time. I've got a helluva missing from the store."

"What?", Kai asked dazedly. Disappearing powder. This must be part of the plan too. They didn't turn Christian for sure. But… they need quartermaster. Mikkeli would be half as effective if he knew what they wanted.

"Powder. We're lacking in… Kai, are you sure you're alright? Cause you look seriously ill to me."

"Yes", he lied. "I'm fine. Absolutely fine."

They rode into empty space behind the tents, between them and the mountain. Sudden thought struck Kai, a half-remembered saying of his first commander.  
_You might bitch about Supplies, Madsen, but no army will go anywhere without food or weapons. _  
Armies won't move without food. Armies won't move without clothing, without powder, without muskets, without crossbows, swords, bolts, ropes, tents, horses, grain and thousand other things that made quartermasters absolutely vital.

"Yeah. Sorry, but you're terrible actor.", said Christian.

Kai ignored him for the moment when it downed on him. That's it! That's how I can do it! If I manage to explain everything to Christian, we'll stop the army for good. They won't be able to invade!

He blinked a few times. Christian and his reindeer looked at him worriedly.

"So…?", Christian cued. Kai blinked and smiled slightly.

"Yes. Sorry. It's just… I have to tell you about something. It's important."

Christian looked around.

"Well, it's not like anybody's listening right now, or so I think. What is it?"

"You see…"

"Well, I knew it."

Both men turned sharply when the third had spoken. Kai's jaw dropped when he saw who came from behind the closest tent.

"Grady?", he asked incredulously. "What…?"

Old sergeant glared at him.

"General and I were both wary of you, you know. You're nobility, sir. Full of all this ideas, 'forever for the queen' and whatnot. And mountain boy here", he nodded at Christian, who just looked at him as if trying to put together a puzzle, "is right. You're a terrible actor, sir. Didn't really fool general, you know?"

Kai could just stare as Grady spoke. Sergeant turned to Christian.

"And you, boy? Please. Anybody could see through that disguise."

And he could only stare as he produced a loaded crossbow from behind his back and raised it to point at Kai.

"I'm sorry, sir. But that's how it is."

And he could only stare as soldier's finger started to push the trigger…

Suddenly he saw a sharp movement to the side and Spot jolted, throwing his rider out of the saddle. Kai hit the ground, hearing the whizz of a bolt close to him, gasping for air and seeing Christian looking at him furiously.

"Who's the _soldier_ here?!", he asked, then kicked his reindeer. Animal jumped to Grady, who thrown away now-useless crossbow and grabbed a sword. Reindeer was smart and stopped at its heels before it's head could be cut in half, nearly sending Mikkeli off. Christian held and reindeer moved away from Grady, who was ready to put it and it's rider down. Mikkeli shouted at it and reindeer jumped forward, striking with its horns, Grady jumped to the side and caught Mikkeli by his leg. Christian squealed when Grady pulled down, and landed on the ground, reindeer tried to turn to face Grady, who raised the sword for deadly strike…

At that moment Kai, who already stood up and drew his sword, moved in and blocked the strike. He tried to attack, but Grady parried and delivered a kick, which Kai avoided, stepping to the side… Straight on the leg of Christian, who was quickly moving back. Surprised, Kai lost his balance and Grady's sword stroke true, cutting at his arm. Kai shrieked and attacked with right hand, trying to stop Grady's offensive, out of balance, his arm slowly numbing. They exchanged attack and parry and Kai noticed an opening, which he used instantly, piercing Grady's side. Soldier hissed, instinctively trying to hold his arm. Kai kicked him and stroke his wrist, cutting it and making him drop the sword. Grady moved back quickly and took his crossbow off the ground, then used it to block Kai's next strike. He then jumped to the side and tried to hit him with it, Kai turned quickly, parried, Grady's next kick hit his knee, Kai shrieked again, tried to attack, soldier moved away, major tried to stab him under the crossbow… He saw stars when massive piece of wood hit between his eyes. He moved back a couple of steps, dazed, and Grady used it instantly, moving forward, striking sword out of his hands…

Suddenly Grady disappeared, replaced by furry flank of reindeer. Animal charged at him with its head low and huge horns thrown Grady on the side of a tent. He was unconscious when he hit the material and slid down on the snow.

Kai stepped forward and back, blinking to chase away the mist that covered his eyes and trying not to hear bells that seemed to ring in his head. Still blinking, he looked at Svivan, who looked warily at unconscious Grady. On it sat Mikkeli.

"What the hell was that about?", asked quartermaster.

"What did he mean?", asked Kai at the same time.

Christian jumped off Svivan and approached Kai, kicking the sword and crossbow to the side. Madsen felt like falling to the ground. As a matter of fact, his knees gave up under him, but Christian managed to catch him before rest of Kai's body followed them.

Mikkeli looked at the wound on his arm and winced.

"Ouch. That doesn't look…"

He didn't finish. A loud rumble drowned his voice and both men look up, at the North Mountain.

The mountain slope seemed to be approaching them.

"Oh, dear…", said Kai.

"No avalanches?!", shouted Christian, kicking the reindeer to run and pulling Kai behind him, taking his own advice. Kai knew, though, that it's hopeless. He heard Spot's panicked scream…

Moments later the snow was on top of them.


	8. Chapter 8: Burial in snow

_Slope of North Mountain_

He woke up to darkness and cold, enveloping him, attacking him from every side. He tried to take a breath, but there was water in his throat and he started to cough uncontrollably, trying to get some air. At last he inhaled sharply, and then started to cough again when ice cold air seemed to have frozen his lungs.

Finally he managed to calm down a bit, breathing through his nose with a whizzing sound. It was deadly cold and he was all shaking. He tried to move his hands, thanking the almighty that he had his gloves on. He couldn't see.

Did I go blind?

Finally he managed to free his arms and rise them. He tried to touch his face and nearly punched himself in the eye. He took a breath and closed his eyes again, even though it made no difference. He tried to say something, but couldn't hear his own voice.

It took some time before he managed to shove the snow away from his head, mostly because he was shaking too much to do it effectively. He then examined the place he was in. There was sound of snow slowly falling, bit by bit, to his left. He could touch the ceiling maybe a hand over his face. To the right…

He felt something familiar under his glove. He moved his hand forward until he touched the snow, then back until he touched animal's nose.

"Spot?", he whispered. "Spot…"

Horse didn't respond. Kai took one of his gloves off and touched Spot again. Animal was ice cold.

"Spot…", he repeated, putting the gloves back on and patting the horse on its mouth.

He bit his lip, trying not to cry. Why am I crying?, he asked himself dryly. It was just an annoying beast.

And yet he couldn't stop the tears. He tried to wipe them quickly, before they could freeze on his face.

He didn't know how long did he lie like this, staring into darkness, before he realized that the sounds of the falling snow are repetitive… and definitely man-made.

"Hello!", he called, then cleared his throat. "Anybody there?"

The sound stopped and after a moment he heard muffled answer.

"Kai? You there?"

"Oh Almighty thank you Christian yes it's me oh my god we're still alive…", he blurted out, then took a deep breath. "What happened?", he asked, feeling slightly more composed. Sounds resumed.

"Avalanche fell. Buried us. We're lucky to be alive."

"Yes… how are we alive?"

"Well, we must've been caught between some big pieces of ice or compressed snow. Instead of breaking and burying us… I guess they locked against each other or something."

"Lucky us?"

"I think. At least we have some chance."

"Yes. Right. What are you doing?"

"Trying to dig myself - us, now - out of the snow."

"Oh, that's good."

"Don't be such an optimist. We might just as well be buried under three or more meters of it, and I'm not working very quickly."

Kai cursed silently.

For a moment, the only sound was Mikkeli digging in the ice. Finally, Kai couldn't stand the silence.

"Spot's dead.", he said.

"Oh…" The silence fell again. "I'm sorry."

"He was kind of a bastard, I think."

"Yeah, I've noticed."

"Is it stupid that I miss him?"

"Probably not. I miss Sven." Christian started to work again.

"Who?"

"Ehm, reindeer."

"Oh. Yes. You think he got away?"

"I hope so."

"Why didn't you try to escape on his back?"

"Because then he wouldn't manage it for sure. This way at least one of us escaped."

Well, that's a man who love his steed, thought Kai, patting Spot gently. A loose thought hit his mind.

"Hey, Christian? Why did Grady said that anybody could see through that disguise?"

"Probably because Berg saw through mine."

"Wha…?" Suddenly he connected the voice with the figure. He imagined Mikkeli's face without mustache, and with browner hair.

"Ah, I got it! You're Kristoff Bjorgman, right? Prince Anna's…" He couldn't find a word.

"Boyfriend, yeah! Finally! Can I _please _shave that mustache now?"

"Yes, sure. I'll even borrow you my razor if you manage to dig us out of here."

"I told you not to count on it."

"So think of it as a motivator."

He could imagine Christian… Kristoff shrugging.

"I just might. Why don't you come and help me?"

"I'd like to… but…"

"What is it?"

"I can't feel my legs."

A long silence fell.

* * *

_Out of the avalanche_

Major Andreas Andersen looked at the catastrophe with shock. Next to him, general's reaction had to be the same, even though Berg didn't show it.

Soldiers had just managed to get themselves together and, accompanied by orders of their officers and sergeants, started to walk into the field of snow and destruction, probing it with blunt end of their pikes. Some, buried shallowly, managed to dig themselves out. Some others were pulled out by their colleagues and tended to by army's doctors.

But many of them - too many - were still buried. Andersen grew up in the footsteps of North Mountain. He knew their chances of survival.

Low. Dreadfully low.

He tried not to think about it, about all his colleagues and friends trapped, probably dead, under the layers of snow. His own battalion was safe, but it was no time for emotions.

Next to him general shook his head.

"I did _not _want this exercises to turn out this practical.", he said.

Andreas just nodded, not sure, what to say. General cursed.

"It's going to take days before we manage to find them."

"Not many days, sir.", Andreas said in hollow voice. "After four it will make no sense to search further. They'll all be dead by then."

"Well. You're right about that."

He turned to look at him.

"Sadly, major, I don't have any idea how else to help them."

Andreas was just about to say that he doesn't either when he actually came up with one.

"Queen Elsa, sir! She can control snow and ice, she could just thaw it!"

General's eyes lighted up.

"Yes, she could! Great idea!" He patted him on the shoulder. "Alright, boy, here's the job for you. Take three our best horses and run to Arendelle as if wolves were chasing you. You'll find a way?"

"It will be hard to miss it, sir, after our passing."

"Great. Take some provisions and go, boy! There's no time!"

Andreas saluted and ran to the stables.

* * *

_Under the snow_

"How's it going?", asked Kristoff after a long break.

"I… I think my luck didn't extend to my legs. They're buried under the ice."

"You can't move them?"

"If I could, I wouldn't feel it."

He heard mountaineer curse.

"Try to dig them out, then."

"A… alright."

Kai tried to bend himself somehow so that his hands could reach his legs. Finally, he touched the wall of snow just under his waist and started to scrape it. Soon his back started to hurt.

For some time, there were only the sounds of two pairs of hands working to break the snow. Kai felt ice cold water reaching his fingers through the gloves. For a contrast, his back seemed to burn with fire, and his head hit the snowy ceiling almost every second.  
He cursed and lied back on the snow.

"You did this?"

"No. I don't think I managed to do anything, my head will break any moment now, my back hurts as hell and can barely reach my legs."

"So stop whining and dig yourself place to sit first.", said Kristoff dryly.

Kai wanted to argue, but couldn't, so he resumed his work, this time over his head.

It took time, but finally he could bend a bit more. He attacked the snow at his legs furiously, accompanied by steady sound of Kristoff's attempts to reach the surface.

"How do you think, what caused the avalanche?"

"Well, that's obvious. If you make loud sound, snow will move. You've been training with muskets since midmorning."

"Sure, but why now? We've been shooting for days now!"

"Yes, and the snow moved with every shot. Finally it passed the point after which it just fell altogether."

"But… but engineers said there's no risk of avalanche."

"Then they've been wrong, as you can see."

Kai couldn't believe it. A few dozen engineers all declared that it's safe. General Berg believed it to be safe. Andreas told them it's safe when he was scaring them with tales from his hometown the day before. How could they all be wrong?

"Missing powder", he realized suddenly. "The one you said was stolen. They put the powder up there and detonated it to make the avalanche."

"What? What 'they'?"

Oh, right. Kai haven't told Kristoff anything about it yet.

"General Berg and few other officers. They want to start war with Weselton."

"What?!"

Kai explained to him all he learned from Berg. After he finished, he heard Kristoff whistle.

"Oh my. That's bad."

"Yes, it is."

"I kind of double hope we'll survive this. Somebody must tell Elsa about it."

"Exactly. You think you'll make it?"

"I'll definitely try. But I've told you not to have much hope for it. Uhm, Kai?"

"What is it?"

"Why would they kill their own men?"

Kai considered this for a moment, remembering the layout of the camp.

"Sub-camps of all battalions whose commanders are on Berg's scheme are as far from the avalanche as possible." He froze, realizing what he just said.

"They did it on purpose. Berg actually killed his own man."

"Yes."

"What… what a…"

For a moment, he was just shaking. How could he…? How could anybody do something like that? How could I think about trying to hide what he's doing? He doesn't deserve it. He just doesn't deserve it.

"What a monster.", he finally said.

"Can't disagree with you on that.", answered Kristoff. "But, Kai…"

"Yes?"

"I suggest you save air. We don't have much of it around here."

* * *

_Weselton_

An army marching out was not a triumphant view. It was grim, with all the weapons being carried, thousands of soldiers in red-and-black uniforms marching at one pace, lowered head of horses marching next to them and countless carts following it all. Altogether, it looked like a huge serpent, slowly consuming the landscape as it moved out.

Eric watched it from the castle window, his mood grim as well. He felt a gentle touch on his shoulder and turned to see Margaret.

"Maybe it will end with nothing.", she told him, smiling slightly. "Maybe they'll just come there, curse us for ordering them to freeze in the mountains, and come back down here."

He shook his head.

"I doubt it. With two armies in one place, one of them convinced we don't know about it and the other nervous about the first one? One accident and there will be shooting on both sides."

And then we'll have war, he thought, turning back to the marching army. It made an audible, creepy sound. Clatter-clatter-clatter-clatter-clatter-clatter… it wasn't stopping for over two hours now.

He read all he could get his hands on about the Great Freeze and he was convinced about one thing: they didn't want to wage war with queen Elsa of Arendelle. It would end quickly, bloody and with snow that would make Great Freeze look like mild autumn.

And yet, it seemed like there was no point in trying to avert it. How do you stop a serpent this huge? Eric just couldn't.

"Yes. We'll have war.", he said silently. Even his wife's embrace couldn't help his mood.

Did you have anything to do with it, honey?, he asked her in his mind. What was in this message you have sent here?

* * *

_Under the snow_

Kai just wanted to die already and end this.

It was hopeless struggle. He was sure he didn't dig even through the inch of snow. He couldn't feel the tips of his fingers and he was all soaked and freezing. Apart for occasional acknowledgment that he's still there, he didn't speak, and with every word his voice was quieter and more hoarse, threatening to die altogether.

It's hopeless, he thought.

And yet he still dug, stupid body refusing to acknowledge the obvious.

"You there?", asked Kristoff. Kai coughed a few times.

"Yeah. There. Alive.", he said and fell silent again.

He considered taking off the gloves and trying to dig with his fingers. But it was stupid. They'd just freeze quicker. But there's no difference, he decided after a moment. Right now they're in the frozen glove. Air or ice, both are cold just the same.

He took the gloves off and thrown them on the ground, then reached to the snow again. He banged something much colder and solid than snow.  
Almighty, please. Let it not be a rock. Please, let it not turn out I've been hitting the rock all that time…

He moved his numb fingers up and down before he realized what it is.

"Kristoff, I…" He coughed a few times before managing to speak audibly. "I found a sword. Mine or Grady's. It's here, anyway. A sword."

"Oh? You think you could use it as a shovel?", Kristoff asked.

"Uhm, I don't know…"

He tried to free it. It took him a few times and he thought he felt himself cutting his fingers, but finally he managed to get it and rip it out of the snow. He grabbed it by the hilt and pulled.

"I got it!", he exclaimed.

"Great. When you'll have your legs free, pass it to me, would you?"

"Sure", he said and started to cut the snow by his legs.

He wasn't sure how long did it take. By the end, it was just mechanical, repetitive scheme. Stab, shove, shove, stab, shove, shove, stab, shove, shove… He felt as if he was spinning, for some reason.

He heard the sound of snow being moved somewhere before him, by his legs. He caused some slide? What? What happened?

My legs, he realized suddenly. I did it. I freed my legs. They can move.

"I did it!", he screamed. "I did it, I can move my legs, I did it!"

He took a few deep breaths and exclaimed:

"I made it!"

"Great!", he heard Kristoff to his left… or was it right? He suddenly felt so weak, like a deflated balloon.

"Now, could you crawl to me?", he heard Kristoff.

"No… sorry… not strong enough…"

"So at least pass me the sword."

"Alright."

He tried to. He tried to rise his hand and do it, but something still stood in his way. Finally he just pushed it in the direction he thought Kristoff's voice came from.

Darkness became deeper.

* * *

_En route to Arendelle_

Andersen kicked the horse to hurry and animal sped up, two others following it quickly. He thrown away the paper package of his small dinner, not caring to stop to put it back in his bag. He had no time. He had to hurry.

It was deep night already, but he had no intention to sleep. With enough spare horses, it was possible to get to Arendelle in two days. Man could go for two days without sleep alright.

But horse couldn't.

Suddenly Andreas felt himself thrown forward, catapulted out of the saddle over the horse's neck. He heard a sharp crack as his ankle was sprained, and hit the ground with enough force to push the air out of his lungs.

He lied on the ground for few long breaths, then turned to see what happened.

His horse was on the ground as well. He must've stepped on something, maybe some hole, and now his left front leg looked broken. Andreas cursed and crawled to the scared animal, then patted it on the neck.

"It's okay, buddy.", he told him. "All is fine, boy. Just wait here for me, okay? I'll go to the capital and take with me someone to help you."

He unfastened the horse's saddle, then stood up and approached the remaining two, limping.

A minute later, he was back on his way.

* * *

_Under the snow_

Kai woke up to a gush of hot air on his face. Hot, wet and incredibly stinking air. He inhaled and regretted that.

"What the…?"

"Hey, you're back!", he heard the voice just in front of him.

"Kristoff? What the hell are you doing?", he asked, confused.

"Trying to warm you up. That's what Sven does to me when I'm freezing."

"I could live without that… particular bit of trivia.", Kai managed to say. He looked around, but it was still darkness around him. The air seemed a bit… fresher? Especially after experiencing Kristoff's breath. But he was sure his legs were free, and he started to shake when he felt the cold again.

"What… where are we?"

"Still in the same place I was.", said Kristoff and Kai realized that mountaineer must be holding him, trying to pass some body heat so that Kai wouldn't freeze to death. "I tried to dig with a sword further and I seemed to have finally broken through the ice. So I came back and dug you out - there was a huge piece of ice hanging between us - and tried to widen the hole I've made."

"But we're still not outside."

"Nope. It turns out I just dug to another air pocket. The moment I tried to climb on it, its floor fell on our heads."

Kai cursed.

"Yeah, exactly.", said Kristoff. "I'm sorry. I tried to keep on digging up, but I'm exhausted. I can't even stand more higher than on all fours, and I dug as much as I could reach with a sword."

Kai took a deep breath. So that's it. It's over.

No. It can't be, he told himself.

"No.", he repeated out loud. "It's not over."

"Maybe. And how are you going to ensure it?"

"I'll start with… get off me, would you?"

He felt even colder after that. He managed to crouch, even though his legs were shaking from both cold and exhaustion.

"Give me the sword and rest. We'll take turns."

"Okay."

He felt the sword with his hands, grabbed it and crawled up to the edge of their air pocket. Thrusting his fingers in the snow, he managed to stand on two feet. With sword in the other hand, he started to stab the ceiling furiously.


	9. Chapter 9: Fine art of ice and plotting

_Arendelle_

It is a general consensus that when a soldier gallops into the capital city, nearly falling from a single horse, exhausted and half-dead from lack of sleep, it means bad news, in the vein of catastrophe or war. Ever since the Great Freeze and diplomatic chaos that followed, people have been anticipating the latter. When the aforementioned event happened in the late afternoon, then, people made way for major Andersen quickly. Some paled.

Queen Elsa was in the middle of a meeting with elderly Royal Architect when she looked out of the window and noticed the everyday crowds parting like sea in ancient legends before the single mounted soldier. She got outside just before Andersen galloped into the castle courtyard and stopped the horse sharply. He was apparently exhausted enough for that movement to throw him off the horse, because Elsa had barely managed to conjure a heap of snow for him to fall and feint into.

Four hours later the healer passed the news that, first, major would live and, second, bad news were about catastrophe, not war. When public, waiting in the quickly falling night for the news, learned about it, majority had left with relief (sometimes exclaimed rather loudly) and minority with relief mixed with guilt that they were relieved at the news of someone else's suffering.

Major Andersen was half-sitting, half-lying in the bed across the fireplace, with a mug of hot tea warming his hands, and dozens of blankets covering him entirely. He wasn't really used to being pampered, but after a mad, half-remembered, frantic ride cross-country, it was oddly comfortable to just let go of any matter and leave it to be somebody else's problem. He made his report to Her Majesty, he told her what's the problem, and now he was about to finish his tea and go to sleep.

Only apparently he wasn't, because Her Majesty opened the door and wandered in with some clear intent in mind. Andreas tried to put down the mug, disentangle himself from the blankets, stand up, bow and salute, all at the same time, which, predictably, ended up as a convoluted mess. Her Majesty pretended not to notice, to Andreas' relief.

"Major, I'm deeply sorry to drag you out of your bed just as you were about to take a well-earned rest. However, I'm afraid general Berg left only very vague information as to the location of maneuvers. I'm afraid, then, that I need somebody to show me the way."

Andreas finally managed to untangle himself and stand on two feet, trying not to gawk at the Queen.

"Uhm, yes, Your Majesty. I mean… I'm sorry, Your Majesty. You alone?"

"Yes. It will be much faster, and I believe I've proven I can manage myself out of the city."

Well, yes, she definitely did. Andreas bowed then.

"As you wish, Your Majesty."

They collected two bags from a servant who shot a worried look to the Queen, and slightly less worried one to Andreas. Major barely noticed, wondering whether he'll manage to stay on the horse. This proved to be entirely different problem, though.

In the courtyard there were two creatures standing, creatures unlike anything Andreas had seen before. They were… vaguely horselike in their appearance in that they had four legs, body and a head with pair of hailstones pretending to be eyes. Apart from that, they seemed to be made entirely of snow, even though the sole fact they were standing, and the saddles and harnesses on them, disproved it. They were even provided with their own little clouds over them to keep them from melting.

"They will be faster than horses, and they won't tire.", Her Majesty stated, walking up to one of them. "Not to mention that I can rebuild them if they crash."

"O-of course, Your Majesty.", said Andreas, approaching one. It didn't move until he did it and he jumped slightly when it turned its mouthless head to face him. Apart from that, it did nothing. No panting, no tail waving, no digging in the snow with a hoof. It remained motionless when he was getting on it and moved only slightly when it seemed he was about to fall, preventing him from it. It would be a good steed for Kai, Andreas thought a bit bitterly, but it's absolutely creepy for anybody who knows horse riding. And there was snow raining from the mini-cloud on his head. He put a hood on.

He turned to see Her Majesty exchanging goodbyes with clearly worried girl that must've been princess Anna and then the Queen saddled up and turned to him.

"Lead the way, major."

Andreas obliged, feeling as if he was sitting on a chair, not quasi-living creature.

* * *

As it turned out, the journey with Her Majesty proven to be amazingly brief experience.

Instead of crossing or finding their way around the rivers and streams, they just stepped on them and water froze under snow horses' hooves. Their legs seemed to shorten and lengthen whenever it was necessary. If there was a chasm to cross or steep hill to climb, bridges of ice grown before them, only to melt after they passed. They never stopped, they never slipped or stumbled, and they were traveling with speed that made Andreas clutch to snow horse's neck as strongly as he could manage. He tried to navigate Her Majesty for the first hour or so, but seeing how they could pass any obstacle and how comfortable the Queen seemed on her snow horse (especially compared to him), he just pointed in general direction and followed her, occasionally shouting for small corrections of their course.

At one moment he awoke atop the still-running snow horse and realized that he had had to fall asleep at some point of the journey, somehow. He was practically glued to the back of the creature with ice and after he looked to the side and noticed the impossible speed they were running at, he decided against breaking the hold.

To his even greater amazement, they arrived at the camp just as the sun started to rise, on the third day after he left it. We must've broken some record, he thought dazedly, trying to see the guards at camp entrance through the daybreak gloom.

At first, the same gloom prevented those guards from recognizing who arrived. The snow horses, however, as well as the diadem and famous blue dress of Her Majesty were the telltale signs and so they were quickly let inside.

Breaking the ice holding him, Andreas looked around from atop the creature. Despite the early hour, the camp was still buzzing with activity. The avalanche occupying majority of the terrain looked as if a thousand moles dug in it, and the soldiers were coming back and forth, still probing the snow with pikes and carrying the bodies.

Bodies themselves were lied down in rows on the other side. They were on the outside and their faces were covered, making it clear that those were the bodies of the dead.

There were sickeningly many of them.

Getting off the snow horse, Andreas felt his heart sink. Surely it had to be in vain. They all had to be dead by now.

"Sir?", he heard to the side and turned to see young private, looking at the snow horse with obvious trepidation. "What to do with this… uhm, this…"

"Just leave it be.", he told him. "It won't go anywhere."

He smiled encouragingly to the youngster, who took it as an excuse to get as far away from creatures as possible, and ran to catch up with the Queen, who had already found general Berg.

"…seventy alive. That's about it, Your Majesty.", finished the general and noticed Andreas, who snapped a salute. "At ease, major. You seem to be in great need of sleep."

"I manage, sir.", he answered. The Queen nodded and said:

"Then let's waste no time. I'd rather you moved your people away from the avalanche, just in case."

General agreed and called to the man. They quickly got off the deep snow, noticing the queen and saluting or bowing to her, then moved back to watch the show.

Her Majesty turned to the avalanche and both officers stepped back a bit when she raised her hands.

* * *

_Under the snow_

Kai wasn't really sure what was happening.

He saw and felt nothing. It was a bit hard to breathe and he was sleepy. He decided to close his eyes and… No, he couldn't. He snapped them open.  
He didn't remember who's turn was it when he decided to take a rest. He remembered Kristoff working and he remembered himself working and he remembered Christian working and they all had swords and there was something wrong with that memory. He wasn't sure, though.

He decided to close his eyes again. For some time already it had felt as if he was only eyes, staring into the darkness. There was no point in that. He was tired. He should take some sleep. It was no difference, after all. He felt nothing either way.

Suddenly, he heard something through the mist that seemed to envelop him. Mildly curious, he opened his eyes…

…he covered his face and curled up when he was blinded by light.

* * *

_Out of the avalanche_

The mass "aaah" could be heard in the nigh-silence as Her Majesty worked her magic.

The snow flashed blue and slowly, by trickles, started to rise up as if gravity decided to work upwards this day. It turned into hazy smoke as it went and then disappeared into nothing, blown away by wind. All the time, flashes of blue and green appeared on the surface of snow in a complicated pattern of snowflakes, the centers of which were the points snow rose from. The spectacle was speeding up and gaining power and in moments trickles turned into currents, currents into rivers and then they all connected, as if the entire mountain decided to rise and fly.

Then, with a soft gush of wind, they all seemed to be gone. People were "aahing" and "oohing" for some more time. Then they looked down and finished with much less awed words as the snow gave way for much more grim picture.

There were bodies everywhere. Crashed, mangled, squashed and red with deep-frozen blood. Dead bodies. Hundreds of dead bodies, just lying there, motionless, frozen, dead, dead, very much dead and beyond saving.

Somewhere far away, Andreas heard the general giving the instructions to search for those who might still be alive. Personally, Andersen had no hopes. I was right, he realized. This was all in vain. They're all dead by now.

Then he saw a slight movement, and the carrot red of Kai's hair.

He didn't know how did he find himself near him, but there he was, kneeling just next to Kai, checking his pulse and putting gloveless hand by his mouth, hoping - nearly praying - that the movement wasn't just his own delusion.

But no. Kai was alive, and so was Mikkeli, lying next to him and blinking slowly.

* * *

_Camp East, by Arendelle_

General Kristiani finished his preparations rather quickly. Then he turned to look at his aide, Carsten.

"Is everything ready?", he asked. "In all departments?"

"So it seems.", answered the weathered lieutenant, producing a notebook from somewhere. Kristiani flinched when he saw it.

"No problem, sir. I kinda doubt anybody who'd look at it would recognize or get the thieves' cant."

"Apart from the thieves.", noticed the general an umpteenth time. Carsten didn't answer, instead leafing through the notebook.

"Well, all of the out-of-the-loops are out of the plan and scheduled to stay. We haven't missed anybody, I think. We're pretty sure who's a snitch in what's left and moved 'em to the outies as well. Equip' seems a'right t'me, and there's a pretty nice side effect of our venture."

"Oh?"

"Rumor has it that HM lied about the 'strophe and it's a war we have, and that's why we make no fuss."

"Ah, that's nice.", Kristiani agreed. "She can hardly disagree with that unless she wants to appear either weak or a liar."

"Guessed my mind, sir." Carsten closed his notebook. "'though I still say you overestimate her, sir."

"I'd rather over- than underestimate her.", Kristiani told him. "And I'd _much _rather she understood we do this for her own good."

"Aye, sir.", Carsten shrugged with his usual lack of respect for high charges. Kristiani didn't mind that - he was damn good aide, after all. "So, we can move out anytime you wish, sir."

"Great. I wish it to be now."

Carsten saluted and run off to pass general's orders. It didn't take long and soon the Second Corps of Royal Army of Arendelle moved out of Camp East, leaving behind only a couple of battalions, which actually had no clue what's going on.

* * *

_General Berg's training camp_

Somehow, against all odds, seven people were found to be still alive under the avalanche. True, one of them died in the night after Her Majesty cleared the avalanche, and another had to have one of his legs, taken by frostbite, amputated, but the fact that five of them survived apparently only temporarily disabled was… well, amazing.

Kai was lying in the darkened tent, covering his eyes with an arm. He felt impossible weight of blankets on top of him and the fire warming his feat quite pleasantly. His head hurt, though, and he felt the world spinning around him - he was quite sure he heard the healer saying something about having too much air after having too few of it. He was slowly falling asleep.

He heard the tent flap open and the sound of huge boots creaking on the snow. After a moment his mind recognized the steps he had learned to watch for in the last years. It was general Berg.

Kai felt that the proper reaction would be to freeze, but the tired body wasn't up to any physical feats yet. He pretended to be sleeping, then. He was nearly asleep anyway, so it was easy.

He heard the general stand by him and then he must've crouched, for when he spoke, his voice seemed to be at the same level as Kai's head.

"Kai, boy…", general started. "I'm sorry it had to end up like this. I didn't want it to end like this at all, but you couldn't act if your life depended on it. You _can't _act if your life depends on it."

Kai mentally agreed with the general, wondering if Berg had already seen through his 'I'm sleeping' act.

"It wouldn't matter, really, whether you told anybody about it or not. The avalanche was scheduled for the same day and I'd find something for you to do while Her Majesty was working. But… the others were stressed and they wanted me to act and make sure nothing happened. So there you are."

Am I supposed to believe the man who talks about avalanche that killed thousands as a minor thing?, Kai asked himself. He didn't think so, but he didn't react either, busily pretending to sleep and trying to stay awake.

"I know you won't believe me, Kai, but I didn't want to kill you. I didn't suspect in my wildest imaginations that you'd go right to the place the avalanche was about to hit. I wanted to send you for help, like I sent Andersen, and then with the troops that survived, back to the capital. You'd be out of all this when it started. And if we failed, at least you wouldn't be hanged alongside us."

He does care, Kai thought incredulously. He's a monster and he cares. It was hard for Kai to wrap his mind around it.

"Well, either way, you're out of this now. So… yeah. I just wanted to tell you that you might not like it or believe it, but I'm doing all this for my country and for my Queen."

He heard the general standing up and walking to the tent's exit. He stopped there for a moment.

"Fare well, Kai. And note please that pretending to be asleep while trying _not_ to fall asleep is kind of pointless."

So he did see through, Kai noted with chagrin as Berg left the tent.

Soon another thought crossed his mind. I should tell the Queen, he decided. Or Kristoff. Or Andersen. Anybody. I should tell somebody what are Berg's plans before Her Majesty leaves the camp.

Too weak to actually call for somebody - and to afraid that general's man might come with something to strangle him - he tried to stay awake and wait for someone to come and hear him.

When the healer came in, though, Kai had already been sleeping deeply for over an hour.

* * *

_City of Arendelle_

Elsa decided to return on the snow horse to the capital by herself, without slowly moving burden that would be the train of ill and injured, coming by normal means with the rest of the army. It was a good choice, she decided, holding the horse's snowy mane while the landscape was blurring to lines around her. She felt free, much more free than for the last three months spend in the capital. She actually stopped by some brook to rest and just relax in the silence of nature and perpetual snow. If not for her ingrained sense of royal duty, she'd probably stay there until the evening. Nobody would expect her to be back so quickly.

Of course, she was her father's daughter, and king Agdar would never abandon his duty to laze around and admire the sights. So as the midday stroke, she stood up, had the dress clean itself, and got back on the snow horse, ordering him to speed to the Arendelle.

Her satisfaction with the ride and herself wavered and disappeared when she slowed down and entered the city proper. The people on the streets greeted her with regular tilts of heads, sure - but their glanced seemed eerily similar to the ones they sent her when she returned after the Great Freeze. She felt a lump of panic shaping itself in the bottom of her stomach. Did I do something wrong? Broken something when thawing the avalanche? Send the city into yet another freeze? But no - around her, all seemed fine. Apart from the people. Was it something Anna has done? Or had an answer from king Friedrich finally arrived?

She felt something that must've been a cold shiver when she thought of the form such answer might had taken. Was the Navy of the Isles standing in the middle of Arendelle Bay? Or maybe the Weselton army crossed the mountains and was pushing towards the city right this moment? The repetitive warnings of generals Berg and Kristiani came to her mind and she ordered the snow horse to gallop, to get to the castle as quickly as possible.

When she entered the courtyard, she met castle butler, Old Mister Kai. The man was clearly worried as well, but he didn't try to hide it from her.

"What happened, Mister Kai?", she asked, getting off the snow horse.

"It's about the leaving army, ma'am.", he said, looking around, even though they were alone in the courtyard. "People are saying you lied to them."

"What?", she asked, surprised. "I lied about what?"

"There being an avalanche, ma'am. People say there's war and you don't want to tell them."

Elsa started to walk quickly towards the castle entrance, with long-legged butler catching up with her with ease.

"Why would they say so?", she asked and then realized something he said earlier. "Wait. What army?"

The normally-unflappable butler actually stopped in surprise. Elsa turned and looked at him, noting the servants leaning out of various doors and windows to listen.

"Ma'am… general Kristiani's army."

"What about it?"

"You… Your Majesty, don't you know? They moved out just yesterday, leaving only few battalions behind, and they gave no reason for it. We thought you ordered them to."

Elsa just stared at him for a moment before regaining her composure. Asking "he did what?" would not help her now. Facts were facts: general Kristiani's army had left the capital, leaving her with forces that would be grossly insufficient to capture them. She briefly considered using ice, but she'd have to find them first and she was just as vulnerable to arrows and swords of rear watch's scouts as anybody else.

But she had to do something. Kristiani was obviously going to act on the ideas of war and conquest he talked about multiple times. What should she do, then? What did she have left? Olafsen's Third Corps and Simani's First were both on the other end of the country, and Berg's Fourth was decimated. General Madsen's Fifth was scattered on the coastal island and… did she really want to start a civil war?

"Believe me", she said, both to Old Kai and the eavesdropping servants, "I didn't give him any orders to move out and there's no war for them to fight."

Butler seemed to have calmed down and Elsa nodded.

"I want a full Royal Council meeting, including my heir apparent.", she stated, turning back and walking quickly though the corridor. "I want it to be clear for the people that I didn't lie and there is no war."

"Of course, ma'am." Seeing his Queen regaining her composure apparently did wonders to Old Kai's state of mind. "What to tell them about Second Corps?"

"Tell them Kristiani must've misinterpreted my orders." I hope it will end up like this, Elsa thought, although she didn't really believe this.

"I will, ma'am. We might have problems with finding princess Anna, though. She seems to be quite stressed by the avalanche. In all honesty, ma'am, I haven't seen her since yesterday evening."

"Oh?" Elsa looked at him, surprised. "Odd. I'd swear I can smell chocolate mousse in the making. Didn't that make her appear?"

"That was the point of making the mousse, ma'am, but the princess is still absent."

That was odd. Anna had to be really stressed by uncertainty of Kristoff's fate. I have to find her and tell her he's alright, Elsa decided and left Old Kai to collect all members of Royal Council.

* * *

Elsa searched the entire castle, calling both Anna's name and that Kristoff was fine. She looked in all the rooms, the kitchen, storages, towers, cellars, unused dungeon, in the gardens and stables and, approaching despair, in all the wardrobes and under all the beds in the entire castle.

The facts were clear, though, as she was forced to admit while entering the Council room and finding Anna absent as well: her sister was missing.

I hope she just went to see Kristoff, Elsa thought gloomily.


	10. Chapter 10: Movement

_Northern Sea_

Anna shook her head and tried to open her eyes. It was awfully stuffy and hot. She felt as if she had her head in some bag. She finally managed to open her eyes and noticed the pattern of woven fabric just in front of her them. Ah, so that's why it's so hot in here. She had to be lying under her quilt. She tried to take it off her with her hands, but few things registered.

First, she wasn't lying in her bed - she was actually sitting, leaning on the wooden wall. Second, she didn't have her sleeping dress on. Third, everything seemed to swing left and right, as if… as if she was on a ship?

And fourth, her hands were tied behind her back.

Oh, dear. Was she kidnapped?

"Did she wake up?", she heard the voice with the foreign accent to the left. She immediately started to pretend being asleep, even going as far as snoring loudly.

"Nah, you hear her.", answered another, much more bored voice. "Give it a rest, Shorty. What's the difference?"

"Dunno, maybe we should give her something to drink or eat?", the man called Shorty answered in irritated tone.

As a matter of fact, Anna would like to eat or drink something. All she could taste in her mouth was salt. Or saltwater. She heard the creaking of wood and flapping of sails she came to associate with port, ships and her parent's death. I'm on a ship, she realized clearly. Why am I on a ship? I must've been kidnapped. Why? And by who?

"If she'll be hungry or thirsty, she'll just start screaming like royalty.", said Bored.

Anna had no intention of announcing herself being awake, so she stayed silent, hoping to hear something.

"Alright.", said Shorty. "But don't blame me if cap'n will get all pissed off at us when she starts 'screaming like royalty'."

She finally recognized the accent as that of Confederates who arrived at Elsa's coronation. It weren't the same people, of course - especially as the Confederate envoy was a woman - but they sure were from the same country.

"He won't.", said Bored. "And if he will, I won't get in his way. You hungry?"

Yes, thought Anna.

"You're asking me or the princess?"

"You, idiot."

"Well, I am."

"So bring me a sandwich when you'll be going for food."

Shorty snorted and Anna heard the sounds of creaking wood, going silent.

Well, I didn't learn much from that, she noted with a sour smile.

* * *

_East of North Mountain, Arendelle_

The camp was nearly invisible unless one came down into the valley. High in the mountains, the layer of snow was nearly two meters high. Doctrine of Arendelle advised that instead of digging passages, soldiers should dig tunnels in the snow. That's what they did. Their tents, the only parts of the camp sticking out of the snow, were painted white with splashes of light grey, masquerading them nearly perfectly. The only thing that could betray somebody's presence here were thin trickles of transparent smoke rising above the tents once a day, but even if the sight of them would bring somebody to the edge of the valley, that person would probably considered it some sort of optical illusion. Moreover, the Third Corps of Arendelle Army was primarily infantry and so there was no need for a corral for more than a few horses.

A scout in white was making his way back to the camp, going downhill. He already exchanged greetings with two other scouts who were watching his approach to the camp, and now he was mostly dreaming about sitting in warm, heated tent and drinking a mug of tea. He'd been on the patrol for the last four days and he had enough of cold food and even colder cot. Of course, he'd have to report to the general first, and with information he brought, his dream was far removed in time.

He exchanged salutes with watchmen in the entrance to the tunnel leading into the camp. They recognized him and the man passed quickly. Inside, he took off the hood of his uniform and sped up a bit to make his imaginary heated tent and a tea a reality a bit faster. Tunnels were marked at the intersections with patterns of colorful paint on the ice, which didn't stop many soldiers from getting lost in barely lit passages. The man remembered the way quite clearly, though, and a few moments later he announced himself to the general.

"So you're saying Weasels are moving in strength?", said general Jens Olafsen some time later and bit his lip.

"Yes, sir.", the scout agreed. "They divided their corps into two divisions and are moving by this… and this path."

The general nodded, tracing the paths shown by the scout with his finger. The ways Weseltonians had chosen for their army weren't much of a surprise - those two were the largest and widest passages through the Broken Back. They were still both on the Weasels' side of the mountains, leading to the valley known as the High Table (who invented that names, anyway?), which was regarded as the border between the two countries. Where exactly did the line go, was rather unclear - Arendelle cartographers considered High Table to be Arendelle territory entirely, while exact opposite was true for the Weseltonian mapmakers.

The most important thing, though, was the net of small passages, the Stone Streams, that connected High Table with the valley Arendellans were in right now. That was the way Weselton could invade Arendelle if they put their minds to it.

So, Olafsen though, what are the chances the Weasel's will stop on High Table? He agreed with Kristiani and Berg when they discussed the matter weeks ago. Not likely.

"Well, so Weasels finally made their move.", he said out loud and looked at the scout. "Is there anything else?"

"They don't have any field guns with them, sir. That's all."

"Well, that's nice. Good job, soldier. Dismissed."

Scout exited the tent and Olafsen looked at the rest of his commanders.

"You've heard the numbers, gentlemen. What are the chances of us stopping them, you think?"

"Depends, sir", said one of the colonels. "If we stay here, we're pretty much frozen fish with the numbers they brought. We can stop them in the Streams, though."

Others murmured agreement. Olafsen agreed as well. While both sides had one corps in this area, Weselton corps were nearly twice as huge as their Arendellan counterparts, making the ratio of soldiers 2:1 in favour of Weasels. On the other hand, in Stone Streams even tiny army could hold - and had held, in old times when Arendelle was part of Empire of the North - much greater forces. That's what Olafsen was counting for.

"Great, gentlemen. Anybody not in favor of this plan?"

They all shook their heads.

"Great.", general repeated. "So, let's get down to real planning. We've got four days before they enter High Table, and I want to use them the best we can."

* * *

It was already evening coming when the colonels left with plans in their hands and instructions started to be passed. Olafsen took a cup of tea from his valet - he had no aide - sat in his folded chair and started to worry.

The plan he, Bjorn and Rasmus made weeks ago presumed that the three corps would have time for an initial strike, a raid that would weaken Weselton infrastructure by the mountains, crippling their army's capabilities. Now, however, it seemed as if their worries were better founded than Olafsen imagined. The Weasel's attack wasn't some sort of dangerous possibility. It was very much an impending fact.

He looked at the calendar standing at the table. Rasmus and Berg should had made their moves by now and they were probably moving to the places they planned for themselves in the secret session the three generals had. The problem was, the plan was no longer valid and Olafsen could use reinforcements.

Dear, I hope they did start to move, he thought, putting out a sheet of paper. In many ways, their mission was harder than his - he was stationed in vicinity of this valley by his standing orders. The only thing he had to do was to invent "surprise training" and move the soldiers further up the mountains. His colonels and majors weren't even aware that there's some scheme going on.

Well, it didn't matter anyway. The schemers' worst fears were starting to prove true.

He finished writing the messages and rang a bell. Valet arrived moment later.

"I need two messengers", he told him. A while later he explained to two man which paths should they take and the pair left for the corral. General Olafsen, meanwhile, continued to worry.

* * *

_Stone Streams_

Corporal Vincent Meyers felt like cursing. He was well-bred sailor boy, scion of sailor families on both his mother's and father's side. What madness stroke him to apply to the Army? And what madness stroke the high command, for that matter?

Oh, sure. After the merchies' queen proven to have some magic powers - he didn't doubt them, he just considered the reports _way _overblown - everybody started to fret and fear as if she already stood by the gates of Port Royal. And then somebody came up with this madness. "Check out if Arendellans aren't planning something". Sure. As if merchies were planning anything other than business. Corona, as Vincent heard, approached it like any sane person should, just making the deal when they saw it.

And as if one madness wasn't enough, there was another, because why not? "Check out if they aren't planning something, but stay on our side of the border." What was that supposed to mean? How were they supposed to do the scouting if they couldn't go anywhere where they _could _scout? And what did one consider a border, anyway? Scout captain just shrugged and said his map shows the border to be on the _east _of Hight Table, by the Stone Streams, while general Potter seemed close to a seizure because merchies considered the border to be on the _west _of High Table. And how was he fretting about it!

Madness! Pure madness!

With that thought, Meyers slid down a particularly icy path and stopped behind a large stone an old avalanche had had to bring here. Whatever high-ups said, neither him nor his comrades were fools. You wanted to have data? Well, sorry, buddy. You had to cross the border.

He looked out over the stone and whistled voicelessly. Private Jones was right when he said those moulds looked suspicious. They were actually tents, buried nearly completely in snow. Now it was clear. There were dozens of men - if not hundreds - folding them, putting together, cleaning and doing all the things one associated with disassembling a camp.

All right. So one madness was justified. Merchies were sitting almost at the border. And now they were moving. Only where?

This thought was stopped halfway when Meyers noticed a flash of white. Shaped like the riverbeds, Streams held snow poorly - most of it was sliding down, leaving the bare rock coated in translucent ice. For once, Meyers was grateful for his gray uniform. White uniforms merchie scouts wore made them stand out in the Streams like those red Army uniforms in… well, everywhere. Meyers narrowed his eyes, catching the sight of the scout once again. The man in the hood was moving up the Stream, carefully picking his way. Once in a while, he stopped, pulled out a small notebook and a fountain pen, looked around and noted something.

Vincent recognized the action for what it was, for he did it many times in the last days. The merchie scout was finding a way for the entire army.

Meyers whistled voicelessly again and started to pull back up. So the merchies weren't going back to their shops - they were actually going up, probably even to the High Table.

That's not good, he thought, carefully retreating.

* * *

_On the way to Arendelle city_

Major Andersen sat in front of his tent. It wasn't a huge, bulky permanent version the army used when camping on manuevres. It was small travelling version in which one couldn't count on much comfort and in which one couldn't even stand up. Andreas, then, preferred to sit in front of his tent and observe the camp life.

It was oddly derelict, but major guess that's normal with the camp of sick and injured. Those who were injured in the avalanche moved out first, without even folding their permanent tents. General Berg ordered so, putting Andreas in command of the train and promising he'll follow him as soon as he'll finish putting down the camp.

Andersen was quite worried, to be honest. Corps' master healer had reported a lack of certain herbs he needed and the major sent a few man on horseback to see if general's component of the army has anything in store. Only the men couldn't find general Berg anywhere. It was two days by now.  
Stop it, he told himself. Perhaps he simply took a different way?

Andreas changed his position a bit so that his legs wouldn't go stiff and shot a glance towards yet another worrying element. When Her Majesty went to the capital, she left the second snow horse with the army. The creature was freaking everybody out, even though it proved extremely helpful. It seemed that it could pull any weight if it was fastened properly. Andreas had to cut master healer's dreams of making the snow horse pull all of the carts in the train short, because it was already worrying for everybody to see it pull two with less emotion or visible effort than a clock. People felt a bit as if it was a demon in hiding, ready to leap at them the moment they felt safe around it.

Major rose when he heard somebody's surprised voice. A short trip took him to another tent and an animal that was standing in front of it.  
It was a reindeer. Andreas blinked and asked the man next to him:

"Isn't that quartermaster's steed?"

"Uhm, it might be, sir."

The animal looked at them and approached Andreas. It looked at him and major would swear it was begging him for something. Its eyes looked oddly intelligent.

What the hell. He already saw snow creatures, flying avalanches and entire country freezing in summer. Why not intelligent animals? He pointed the reindeer to Mikkeli's tent. The animal, to his dismay, licked him and went there, then slid in.

"Uhm… sir, should we let it be inside?"

"You want to try to pull it out?"

* * *

_South of the North Mountain_

The army was making its pace quickly and silently through the falling night. Only the necessities were taken, as well as dozens of stored muskets and powder. Forced march was difficult, but not as difficult as it had been earlier, when they were still over the snow line.

General Berg was riding at the back of the column and listening to a major that filled in Kai's position.

"…Andersen's men were seen, sir. It seems to me they are looking for us."

"Not a big problem", general answered. "By tomorrow's morning we'll be way out of the range they'd consider looking in."

"If you say so, sir."

"I do. Is there anything else?"

"No, sir."

"Then thank you."

When the man moved away, general scolded himself in his mind. He had to admit it, he missed Kai and his approach to the job. Perhaps it was because of his aristocratic origins, but the boy had much less of this annoying regard one should reserve for saints only. And dear, how Berg missed that.

He wanted to brood a bit more, but a mounted man came to him and saluted in his saddle.

"Sir, there's a messenger from general Olafsen."

"Oh? What is it?"

A moment later a tired man on horseback arrived and saluted. General saluted back.

"What is it?"

"Sir, general Olafsen…", man took a deep breath and started again. "Sir, general Olafsen sends his regards. His scouts report seeing Weselton's military activity in the High Table valley and general worries that this might be beginning of war. There's more information in the message, sir."

"Alright.", Berg tried to keep his cool when taking the message from the man. "Dismissed. Soldier, find him something to eat and drink."

"Thank you, sir."

"Yes, sir."

Two man moved away and Berg opened the envelope. He took a lamp fastened to the saddle and read the message, growing more and more worried. Their plan was coming apart.

You knew this could happen, he reminded himself. Remember that phrase? No plan survives the first contact with enemy? Well, apparently some don't live even this long.

He only hoped that Rasmus had managed to leave the capital, and that he'd be in place before all the shit went down of Jens' head.

* * *

_Stone Streams_

When Meyers looked at the Streams two days later, they looked much more different. What then was a net of open roads was now a giant bottleneck with a cork made of soldiers. It looked huge, scary and unpassable.

Be professional, man, he scolded himself. Bet the captain won't accept those three words as your entire report. So Vincent started to count and observe as much as he could, remembering the positions, counting the numbers and estimating the forces. It was actually impossible to do it fully - merchies closed the Streams shut in the middle of them and it was anyone's guess how many soldiers did they have behind front line of defenses.

What were the merchies _doing_, anyway? They just decided to close the Streams… because what? Because they were afraid that Weseltonians were going to do what, invade them?

Well, it might make some sense for merchies, Vincent admitted. After all, Weseltonians came with entire corps and made camp on the disputed territory. Why did general stop fretting about it was anyone's guess as well. Meyers suspected it was more comfortable for him to set tent on flat ground than on the mountain slope.

He scanned the area once again, making sure he remembered everything. Then he prepared himself to go back…

A crossbow bolt took him by surprise, slashing his left arm open. He turned frantically, trying to find the shooter. There he was, on the top of the "riverbed"! Vincent rose his own crossbow…

Another bolt hit him in his forearm from the back, throwing the crossbow out of his hands. Screw it, Vincent decided, abandoning the weapon and starting to run back up. It was no time for stealth.

It was half an hour of ducking, fear and sharp shifts of his course, full of hope that merchie regulars won't open musket fire at him. By the time he finally made it to Weselton outpost, he felt nearly dead. He made it out of the Streams alive only because of his thick jacket that absorbed most of the bolts. The healer described him as looking as a needle pillow.

Arendellans considered this incident a foiled pre-battle scouting on Weasel's side.

Weseltonians considered this incident the opening shots of war on merchie's side.

Both sides started to arm up, preparing for the other one to come to them.


	11. Chapter 11: Smoke and thunder

_Stone Streams_

It was nearly afternoon when sun finally started to slide down over the ragged, mountainous horizon. Standing halfway in the Stone Streams, soldiers winced and cursed as it nearly blinded them. Everybody was fully aware that if Weasels wanted to attack, that was the best moment for them.

Not that it would be easy. While the ice under the Arendellan feet melted some time ago, everywhere else the Streams were coated in it, making any sort of descent or ascent a training in uncontrollable skiing. Below the line, soldiers worked hard to crush the ice and make the path safely passable, but over it, slippery layer reflected the sunlight like a giant mirror.

The line itself was no laughing matter. All over its length, in all canyons forming the Streams, is was bristling with fang-like, long blades of pikes and shorter, but no less dangerous muzzles of muskets. Of course, one could count only for the first salvo to be truly devastating - reloading the damned things took nearly a minute. As Weasels couldn't be counted on to give them enough time, crossbows waited for musketeers to pick up.

In the northern, wide canyon called unimaginatively N20, captain Soren Nexø watched the "riverbed" impatiently through the spyglass and snow goggles, hoping that Supplies could send a bit more of them. Of course, counting on Supplies to do its job properly was a recipe to get oneself killed quickly, so Nexø sighed and lowered the spyglass. He looked at the soldiers standing up and down the fifty feet wide line. Men seemed slightly stressed, the more the longer the sun shone over the horizon. Nexø understood them perfectly. What were the Weasels doing? Maybe they weren't going to attack at all? Or maybe they didn't even notice that they have the perfect opportunity? No. Weasels weren't idiots, whatever one might think about attacking a country whose ruler controlled winter itself.

Minutes and quarters passed by with Nexø looking through the spyglass more and more often. But no figures or weapons appeared at the top of the canyon. Sun was going lower and lower, robbing the Weasels of opportunity to strike.

Finally it stopped shining directly into their eyes. All around the captain, soldiers started to sigh and breathe with relief. The worst part was over. Somebody slung his musket over his shoulder. Somebody else said a joke about stupid Weasels, prompting men next to him to laugh. Nexø, though… couldn't get rid of a feeling that something bad was going to happen any moment now. Wouldn't it make more sense for Weasels to attack just as Arendellans relaxed?

"Stay alert.", he ordered. His men shot him surprised looks but obliged, picking up their weapons and resuming the watch…

Right on time, as suddenly dozens of mounted Weasels appeared over the horizon.

The charge started with a yell that echo took up, making it seem as if there were thousands of cavalrymen running down the slope at them. Nexø gritted his teeth as the battle cry was drowned by sounds of hundreds of hooves hitting the ice in near unison, speeding up and resounding in people's heads. He took a deep breath.

"Fire!"

Boom of firing muskets nearly deafened him, and clouds of black smoke blinded everyone, changing the visible downhill charge into a terrifying sound in the darkness, in which screams of man, splashes of metal hitting the body, sounds of scared horses, of hooves and bodies hitting the ice, mixed together.

"Pikes forward!", Nexø hardly heard his own voice, but the men reacted and clank of metal was heard through the hooves. It was strong sound, but it quickly made way for smoke-enveloped charge.

"Bolts!", he screamed and crossbows shot without a sound. Another wave of screams and screeches could be heard and Nexø would swear there were less hooves running down now, but they grew closer and louder like a drums that couldn't be silenced…

And then they met the pikes.

Horses, generally, don't charge on the pikes. They have more sense than to try throwing themselves on ten feet long blades. However, the ice was against them and terrified animals, trying to stop and back down, were sliding down, crashing into those who managed to slow down, barely losing their speed and falling, falling down.

Where the pikes awaited. The men nearly backed down when hundreds of pounds hit and got themselves pierced, dying with horrified howls, screams and screeches. Their riders, those who weren't crashed by the falling animals, tried to get over them and over the Arendelle line. First human blood was spilled as they jumped at them and the men couldn't get their pikes out of the falling animals. The musketeers were quicker, dropping the crossbows and pulling out their swords. Screams of rage and pain were heard in the dense, acrid smoke which clouded the vision, making every man in the both units fight on his own. Nexø didn't even know when did he join the combat, but there was a man in front of him in red uniform, so he attacked. The blood was nearly invisible on the material, but the man fell on the ground and another took his place among screams and darkness. Nexø stroke with a sword and punched in the throat at the same time. He finished with long slash that split his opponent's throat open and looked around, frantically trying to make something out in the smoke. He only heard screams and saw half-visible silhouettes fighting each other. He didn't have time to look more, because he was attacked again and had to fight.

There were much more Arendellan infantrymen than Weselton cavalrymen and soon it started to show. Men in red uniforms started to run back and Arendellans started chasing them. Nexø took a deep breath.

"Keep the line!", he screamed. "Stay on the line!"

For a long, terrible moment he thought they're going to ignore him and just run all the way to Weasel's lines. But they stopped, and those who didn't were stopped by their comrades. Nexø took a deep breath of the clearing air as the sounds of battle started to diminish. It was still going on, he heard it - other canyons had to be attacked as well. He looked on the ground. Less than twenty of his men had died, while the ground was nearly littered with Weasels' bodies, but… but… he didn't feel like he won. He felt like vomiting.

So that's what war looks like, he thought, looking up. His men had just finished reloading the crossbows. Nexø pointed at the Weasels, running away. He couldn't let them get back, so that they'd return to slay more of his men.

"Fire.", he ordered.

After the last screams faded, silence was ringing in his ears.

* * *

_3__rd__ Corps headquarters_

General Olafsen rubbed his temples, looking at the detailed map of Stone Streams. All over the line, Weasels were attacking, either trying to break through or just probing his defenses. Most of the time, it ended like in N20, with nearly complete annihilation of Weselton forces. In one canyon the line broke under the weight of bodies that fell on it and Weasel's invaded… only to be cut down when Arendellans surrounded and swarmed them.

All in all, it was fairly good day for the Royal Army, as long as one could call war and two percent losses a good day. Olafsen doubted, though, that it was the first in long line of victories. Even if Weasels decided to go with the tactics of hammer, just hitting him head on, they had much more men to spend than Olafsen. And that presumed that they wouldn't try something tricky.

I just don't have enough men, he thought. I'm the one who has to be tricky, not them. It would be perfectly fine for them to just stay stupid!

* * *

_Arendelle_

"Rise and shine, Kai.", Madsen heard when he groaned and opened his eyes.

He was looking at lavishly decorated ceiling with the royal crest in the middle. I'm in the royal castle, he realized with some incredulity. I'm alive and in the royal castle. What am I doing here?

"Woke up already?" He finally recognized the voice as belonging to Andreas. He turned to see the major sitting on a chair next to his bed.

"Um, uhm. Apparently.", he said and felt his stomach rumbling. "A… any chance of getting something to eat?"

"There should be.", said Andreas and went to the door, then knocked on them and leaned out. A moment later, he came back.

"Breakfast will come in a moment. Nice to see you back awake and responding, by the way."

"Right, thanks." Kai returned to staring at the ceiling, feeling completely exhausted.

Suddenly a though hit him and he sat upright, then stopped as his head started to spin. He looked at Andreas.

"What is it?", Andersen asked.

"Andreas, general Berg… He… he's planning…"

"What? He's supposed to be in the capital in a few days. Seeing how Kristiani's not here…"

"What?"

"The queen returned to find general Kristiani's army leaving for somewhere without an order."

Kai suddenly realized what happened. Kristiani… He must be on it with Berg. Who else?

"Hadn't Kristoff told you?"

"Christian, you mean? The moment he woke up he requested to talk with Her Majesty. What is it with the two of them, anyway?"

"He's name is Kristoff and he's princess Anna's boyfriend. Her Majesty put him in the army as her spy. Andreas, Kristiani's going to start a war with Weselton. And Berg is helping him."

"Whaa…?", Andreas opened his eyes widely. Then he cursed.

"Army messenger has galloped to the castle just a moment ago. Judging by his state, buddy, you woke up slightly too late."

Kai just stared at him for a moment. Then he felled back on his bed in despair.

He failed.

* * *

He was just lying there for what seemed like a really long time before the smell prompted him to get out of the bed. Breakfast.

While he was eating, Andreas just looked at him, worriedly. Finally, he said:

"Kai, there's nothing you could've done. Kristiani left the capital the same day the avalanche struck. And you couldn't have predicted the avalanche."

No, not really. Berg caused the avalanche. Damn him.

"Yeah. Alright." He nodded. "You think you can find out what's going on?"

"I think you've got better chances. Your father is in the palace."

Kai looked at him in surprise.

"My father? What is he doing here?"

"Well, he arrived two days ago, apparently for the annual report, but as the situation is as it is, he stayed."

"Ah. All right.", Kai nodded. He finished eating and stood up.

"Well, then, let's see if we can find something out."

Before he started to approached the door, they opened and elderly man in butler's livery looked in.

"Major Madsen, major Andersen, Her Majesty and general Madsen request your presence."

They were led to the room with oval table littered with maps in the middle of it. Around it stood the man with messenger's badge, Kristoff, Her Majesty and general Hakan Madsen.

Kai and his father weren't all that similar. General was nearly a head higher than Kai and while young Madsen always looked five years younger than he really was, baron Madsen's hair grayed early, giving him the look of elderly statesman. He eyed his son with slight, well-hidden look of relief in his eyes.

Kai saluted, first to the queen and then to his father. At his left, Andreas did the same.

"Your Majesty. General."

"At ease", his fathered ordered and motioned him to come closer.

"Majors, I've already heard Kristoff's description of what happened.", the Queen picked up. "I'd like you two to tell me as much as you remember about it."

Andreas apologized for knowing nothing and so Kai told the entire story, starting with the missing muskets and ending with Berg causing the avalanche and his further plans.

"We couldn't find his army anywhere.", Andreas added.

"I see.", Her Majesty nodded and turned to look at the messenger. The man seemed to be in late phases of shock - he had probably heard the entire story from Kristoff.

"Well, Your Majesty, sirs, I'm afraid it doesn't matter much anymore.", he said. "Wease… Weseltonians attacked us first. General Olafsen tries to hold the Stone Streams, but there's much more of them than us."

Her Majesty nodded, thanked the messenger and let him exit the room. Kai breathed deeply with regret. So whatever I tried to do, it failed. Weselton attacked us anyway. Maybe the general was right…

That doesn't make him less of a monster for killing half of his men, he reminded himself. Meanwhile, the Queen looked at his father.

"What's your opinion, general?"

Standing next to baron Madsen, she seemed really young. She _is _young, Kai realized with a bit of shock. Younger than me, in fact.

General looked at the map, stroking his beard.

"Well, with how the situation turned out, we can hardly continue chasing Kristiani and ordering him to return. Honestly, we'll be better off if he manages to get to Olafsen in time."

"And Berg?"

"He's probably already halfway through to wherever they planned him to strike." He turned to look at Kai. "How do you think, is Olafsen on it as well?"

"Well, sir. I know general Berg was meeting with generals Olafsen and Kristiani quite often shortly before we left. I think general Olafsen was in activist faction as well. So… yes, sir, I'd say he was on it."

General nodded.

"Actually, that's good. He's probably in contact with Kristiani and Berg, so for now, he'll manage. We can't really do much more in short term."

Her Majesty nodded. General blinked twice and added more thoughtfully.

"What worries me, Your Majesty, is that my agents' reports didn't seem to indicate that Weselton's planning a war."

'My agents' reports'?, Kai repeated in his head in surprise. Was his father a Royal Spymaster as well? This… actually made sense. With Fifth Corps he commanded scattered on dozens of islands and ships, he probably didn't have much generaling to do.

"They weren't planning a war?", the Queen asked.

"No. They apparently caught wind of Berg's maneuvers and sent somebody to check out if we're not planning something."

"So, why did they attack?", asked Kristoff, leaning on the table and looking at the general in surprise. If elder Madsen felt surprise that man without title or rank dare interrupt him, he didn't let it show.

"According to general Olafsen's message, there was some incident with scouts on both side involved a few days before Weseltonians charged down the Stone Streams. General Potter, their commander, is said to have a tendency to overreact. And there we are."

"The question is,", Her Majesty added. "What do we do now. The best would be to send diplomatic mission and stop the entire thing before it spins out of control, but I'd like to hear some ideas in case this didn't work out."

Everybody nodded and looked at the maps. Kai's eyes focused on that of the continent.

"Confederacy signed a trade treaty with Weselton a week or so ago.", general Madsen said. "Not to mention that they're not our staunchest supporters. If they are to side with anybody, it'll be Weselton."

"Would they attack, sir?", asked Kai, looking at the second biggest country on the map.

"Hard to tell, really. Ever since Isles rebelled and seceded, Confederates haven't been all that offensive-minded."

"What about Corona, then?", asked Her Majesty.

"They'd probably support us."

"But three quarters of their border is with Confederacy.", Kai noted, pointing at the map. "If they declared support, Confederacy could block them entirely in less than two days."

"We can't really do that to them.", the Queen nodded. "Especially as they are our only sure ally."

"Of course, Your Majesty."

Kristoff pointed at large country in the east, taking up most of the map.

"What about them?"

"Tamperans? Recently they've been so focused on the politics in the Far East, I doubt they'll even notice something's going on.", said general Madsen. "And don't even think about this cluster of nations south of Tampere - having the Empire for a neighbor, they're working very hard to look invisible and harmless."

Kristoff nodded.

"Well," said the Queen. "That leaves only one unknown. The Isles."

Everybody looked at pear-shaped Inner Sea. It's north was formed by Arendelle and Weselton, west and northeast was taken by Confederacy, majority of the east was Empire of Tampere and Corona was a tiny dot squeezed between Confederacy and the Empire. The entire southern end of Inner Sea was taken by dotted pattern of islands which shape reminded Kai about giant albatross facing south, with wings spread widely and Island of Westerguard forming the top of its beak.

"Hard to tell what they'll do.", said the general. "For now, I know only that prince Hans' arrival in Koenigsberg caused quite a ruckus. It seems that king Friedrich wants to punish him as he should, while his brother, Michael, is kind of opposed to the idea. They're too far away to be sure about anything, though. And if this war will finish in three weeks, they won't even have time to react to it."

The queen nodded.

"Well, then let's leave them. So our only option is to try to make peace with Weselton and fight on our own?"

"Apparently, Your Majesty."

* * *

_Unnamed valley_

"Sir, a message from general Berg." The messenger stood at the entrance to the tent, saluting.

"At ease.", Olafsen ordered, taking the message from him. "Anything he said?"

"He has a plan regarding Weseltonians, sir. That's all I know."

"Alright. Go, get some rest."

When the man, left, Jens thrown the message on the table. It landed next to the one from Her Majesty - the one he hadn't opened yet. He didn't really feel like opening it.

After the initial catastrophe, Weasels didn't repeat heads-on attack. Instead, Olafsen's scouts found themselves being assaulted any time somebody tried to take a look at High Table. Arendellans hunted occasional Weasel scouts as well, but that didn't really fill Olafsen with joy. There was only one small skirmish when platoon in S6 canyon tried to move their defenses a bit higher up and hit the Weseltonians when both sides surprised themselves by showing up from behind the corner. Cavalrymen were destroyed completely - why did Weasel general even think of sending cavalry down the Streams? - but only two Arendelle soldiers returned. Apart from that, there was odd silence on Weasels' side.

They were preparing something tricky, he knew that.

He decided to start with Berg's message. He opened the envelope and moved himself a lamp.

_Jens,  
I hope you're doing somehow up there. In theory, I'm two days of forced march from you, but I have to slow down a bit or we'll be nothing more than a load to you by the time we get there. So count it as three days.  
I have an idea, though. The maps show there's a small passage north of your position that could - after some twisting and turning, and some mountaincrossing - lead us to the High Table, behind what you marked as Weasel's position on the map you sent me._

Below this, there was a crude, sketchy map showing the path Berg wrote about. Olafsen nodded to himself and read on.

_I propose, then, a plan: as I'm traveling lightly, I can walk this way without much ado, and strike Weasels - focused on you - in the back. Hopefully, it will ease the pressure they put on you and take them by surprise, meaning we could inflict considerable damage on their supplies. We can return the way we came there and I assure you, those lowland-bred horses of theirs have no chance to keep up with us.  
Tell me what you think of it, but write quickly - tomorrow I'll have to decide whether I go to you or push to the north.  
Bjorn_

Jens thought about it. The idea was a bold one, and if Bjorn was so sure about his chances of success, surely worth a try. He wrote as much in his message and called the man who brought Berg's letter.

"Could you find the general and pass him my message?"

"Of course, sir."

The messenger left a moment later and Olafsen took another piece of paper. He started to write.

_Rasmus,  
It was good to hear you're on the way. You'll sure be a welcome addition to what I already have here.  
Bjorn won't join us, though. He has a plan to surprise Weasels from behind - take a look at the map._

He redrew Berg's sketch and wrote on:

_He believes he can succeed and I generally agree with him. He plans to strike them from behind. Long story short, he'll be the hammer and we'll be the anvil. I wrote him to go with the plan, so I hope you'll manage to get here.  
Fare well,  
Jens_

I just hope he'll make it in time, Olafsen thought, folding the message and calling for someone to carry it. And I hope neither anvil nor hammer will shatter.

Having sent the message, he finally took the one from the Queen and opened it with some trepidation.

_General Olafsen,  
I am aware of the plan you, along with generals Kristiani and Berg, made regarding the war with Weselton. I know that you planned to start it and ruin the neighboring nation. I am definitely not grateful, nor am I happy about it and if the times were normal, you can be sure you'd all hang for treason.  
However, times are not normal. For whatever reason, the Weseltonians decided to attack us and you are Arendelle's only defense against them. Therefore I have no choice but to give you free hand in your plan to protect our country. Yet remember that whatever your initial plan, it is not your task now to invade Weselton and I am wholly against any such actions. I seek the end of this conflict as quickly and smoothly as possible.  
Whatever the outcome of this war, though, I will not forget what you and your fellow conspirators intended. Even if you shall become our nation's heroes and champions, I will keep in mind that the first of your plans was to betray us, and I will act accordingly.  
May good fortune befall you,  
Queen Elsa the First of Arendelle_

Well, thought Olafsen, his fingers shaking slightly as he folded the message, at least she's clear about it.

* * *

_Weselton_

Prince Eric walked down the beach, watching his path carefully. There was a storm last night and furious sea threw a lot of trash and junk on the sand. He passed rocks, huge pieces of wood smoothed by the water, tangled fishing nets, something he couldn't name… He tried to, the exercise providing a much needed rest from the court work.

There was something going on in the Broken Back. He knew that, his father knew that, the generals knew that, but general Potter, so far, hadn't sent any message. It would be about time, Eric thought with annoyance. What does he have, memory of a goldfish? He should've…

His train of thoughts crashed suddenly when he stumbled on something soft. For a moment he thought he hit some unlucky seal, but when he looked down, he froze.

There was a human face staring back at him. It didn't have eyes and it was just beginning to decompose.

Eric stared at it for a moment before regaining his senses. He noticed that a black line on the dead man's forehead was not a scar or wound, but a tattoo. He remembered a person with such a tattoo, as a matter of fact, even though he met him only in passing.

This man was a captain of small merchant ship that sailed between Weselton and Arendelle. He was also the agent of royal spymaster, colonel Hunter, and he specialized in army reports.

And now he was dead.

Arendellans hadn't killed him, that's for sure. Eric remembered something his father had told him when he was younger. Royal castle lay in an awful place, because everything from Port Royal and city of Weselton drifted into it.

So the men had had to be killed there. Maybe it was just an accident. But… he specialized in Arendelle army. And just as Arendellans were doing something strange, just as Hunter convinced the king to put an army at the border, just as there were no news… He ended up dead.

Something bad was going on.


	12. Chapter 12: Forcing changes

_Westerguard_

Admiral Klaus Hauser was in a weird mood. Something between anticipation and trembling fear, with a little bit of determination mixed in. He didn't let it show, of course. His subordinates didn't call him 'Stoneface' for nothing.

"…so that's it. Any questions?"

His commanders looked at each other, as if waiting for somebody to question him. The Westerguard Fleet was pathetic in more than one regard. It consisted of mighty total of five ships and all of them had been sent there because of something they did to anger the high command. People hated the service at the edge of the world, especially when they compared themselves to the huge pendulum ships that arrived from the Southernmost Lands, and they hated the endless rains, and the gloomy atmosphere, and the Weste, who seemed to know only their own tongue despite being nominally part of the Kingdom. In the first few weeks after their arrival, conscripted sailors used any opportunity to get out of this rock, forcing the officers to conscript locals, who were not too happy about this either. Soon the Islanders started to feel like besieged fort, with no aid in sight, surrounded by strangers.

"Well, sir, this is going to be lovely.", said one of the captains. "I mean - it's not like I'm going anywhere after Westerguard duty. At least I can bite the bastards back."

Hauser nodded, noticing similar sentiment on other faces. Stick it to the king and be done with it. Yeah, that would be nice. What then? Maybe he could buy himself a place aboard one of pendulum ships? It was said there's a lot of money to be made in the Lands. And he sure didn't intend to stay on this Almighty-forsaken rock forever.

"Then when do we start the sequester?", said another captain, fiddling with his pipe. Hauser drummed the fingers on the table.

"You sure your crews won't mind?"

"When we tell them they can keep three quarter of what we'll find?", said the third man. "Sir, they'll be pushing us to start right here and now."

"Alright, then. If you're all so sure about this, we'll start tonight. At…" he looked at the clock fitted in the ship's wall. "…third o'clock, let's say."

* * *

In the keep, the last preparations were being set in place as well. Colonel Roland Vaucherd looked at the shift schedule and nodded to himself. All of the Islander soldiers were scheduled to have their shifts end at midnight. By three o'clock, they should be sleeping well, absolutely exhausted after all day of training he put everybody through. The plan should go well, and later they could sort out who stays and who goes.

He heard a knock on the door and a moment later prince Hans entered.

"How are you doing?", he asked.

"Fine, thanks, prince.", colonel said. "Should we start titling you 'Your Majesty' already?"

"How about 'Your Grace'? I like that one better."

"Sorry, prince, but you're not graceful at all. Or majestic, for that matter."

Hans grinned, even though it seemed slightly artificial. He's a good actor, Vaucherd thought. I wonder whether in reality he's a completely stressed-out kid or absolutely cold-blooded bastard? I think I hope for the second, actually.

"How about 'Your Sneakiness', then? I bet I'd be the only ruler with that title."

"Let's wait and see if you'll pull it off first.", colonel said and tilted his head. "I presume you didn't come simply to ask me about titles?"

"No, not really." He paused to sneer. "I wanted to ask you about what you're planning to do with those who decide not to side with us."

"We'll just keep them in the dungeons."

"Are you not worried they'll try to escape?"

"That's an ever-present danger, sir. In my head it's pretty much on the same level as the chance that Friedrich will send marines to infiltrate us." He shrugged. "Even if any of those happen, this is Westerguard, prince. They'll be visible like… like a witch in the cathedral."

Hans nodded, then winced.

"What kind of metaphor is that?"

"Stupid Islander language has no useful ones, so I have to make them up."

* * *

The night had fallen, but everything was far from calm. It was pretty much impossible to prepare anything in a community like Weste without anybody hearing about it. Entire island seemed abuzz with rumors in the darkness, with people speaking lowly and suddenly going silent whenever a stranger approached. Non-Weste quickly found themselves unwelcome in pubs and bars and they returned to their ships, curious and worried. After midnight, though, it seemed that situation calmed down. It might had something to do with colonel Vaucherd coming down and quietly telling people to shut up. They shut up, then, and turned their attention to fort and port, waiting for proverbial bomb to go off.

It did at three o'clock.

"Wake up!", somebody screamed on the pier. "Royal control, let us aboard!"

Tired, sleepy sailors complied, hearing deafening shouts. The gangplank was lowered and suddenly they found themselves flooded by uniformed men. Rubbing his eyes, captain of large pendulum ship climbed aboard, only to be suddenly pushed on the floor, with hands behind his back. More screams were heard as the navy men unceremoniously arrested all of the officers and led them out of the ship, leaving only not understanding, still half-asleep sailors, and their own watchmen that looked all too dangerous to try and confront. One of them stepped forward.

"This ship is now a possession of Westerguard government!", he declared. "Anything of wealth aboard this ship is ours as well! You are forbidden to leave! Will anybody try…"

He rose his crossbow with a grin that suggested he'll be all too happy to point it at anyone who'd try. Sailors backed off.

"Good men.", watchmen said. "We'll be off this ship soon! This doesn't mean you're free to go! Until we say otherwise, this ship will stay right where it is! Is that clear?"

All over the port, similar shouts could be heard as navy sequestered all of the ships. They couldn't take them all at once, of course - they didn't have nearly enough men. Two ships, at the end of the pier, decided to take their chance. Captains of large pendulum and small courier quickly reached an agreement and when navy men came, they were welcomed by shots from crossbows and 'wolves', small anti-boarding cannons. While the first had rather poor accuracy in sailors' hands, the wolves were used extensively on the Stormbringing Ocean and so they took their toll. There were screams of pain and blood on the wood when navy men scuttled back and approached again, this time more carefully. Pendulum and courier started to set their sails, although larger unit didn't have huge chance to escape. Smoke filled the pier, covering their actions, and wolves shot again, this time less accurately as the smoke covered the approaching sailors. Crossbow bolts whizzed by and some stroke by luck. A moment of silence and then BOOM of firing wolves and thump-thump-thump of musket ball hitting the wood and splash! of one finding a body to kill. Hearing that navy has muskets, pendulum captain cursed and hurried up his men. Wolves fired again, but this time in lesser numbers. Somebody must had been hit.

"Oo-ooh", major Mousac murmured to himself, running to the keep's walls. Vaucherd's soldiers ran past him quickly to the quarters of sleeping Islanders, trying to get them in chains before they realize something's going on. Hauser screwed something up, Mousac thought, there were supposed to be no cannons there! Great! Now we can just start waving a banner saying "Hi, we're the rebellion! Here, shoot here!".

Hearing soldiers behind him encouraging their comrades to come out, saying nothing bad will happen to them if they do, he decided that maybe it's not that bad. Judging by the sounds, it were just wolves in the port. Stupid Friedrich and his stupid regulations finally proven useful for something.

He jumped out and shivered, feeling the cold air. Gun crews - all knowing what was happening - looked at him and saluted.

"Back to the guns.", Mousac said. "And report."

"Two of the ships managed to pull out of the port", the closest gun chief said, passing Mousac a spyglass. Major looked through it and cursed. Indeed, two were leaving, pendulum ship and courier, the former still trailing smoke from its wolves. Bastard could fit a lot of them on such a large deck.

"You think navy'll catch them?", he asked.

"They'll have no problem with the pendulum", gun chief noted. "It's moving with a pace of a snail. Courier, though…"

"Yeah.", Mousac winced. Courier ships were built for speed, and especially speed in leaving the port. They were supposed to run away from the island under attack and bring information about it to Koenigsberg as soon as possible. Stupid Islanders were doing their job well. What was worse, navy guns couldn't hit it, because pendulum was acting like a giant shield that would eat any shots in that direction. Two navy ships were moving out to intercept them, but their chances to catch courier were rather low.

"What is it?", Mousac heard the voice behind him. He turned to see prince Hans, who looked surprisingly well-groomed and relaxed. I wonder if he slept tonight. Probably not.

"Two ships are running away.", Mousac said, passing the spyglass. "Pendulum won't make it, courier will."

Hans looked through the spyglass and gave it back.

"Well, that's bad.", he agreed. "You think you could hit it from here?"

"Courier?", Mousac asked in surprise. "Well, I guess we can…"

He looked at the courier again. It would be at least five days before it reached Koenigsberg. Would it make sense to kill them just like this?

"Major, we can't let them escape.", he heard Hans saying. "We need all the time we can get and this courier will steal a lot of it from us. It doesn't please me any more than it does you, but we have to do this."

Damn it, he _was _right. Mousac gritted his teeth, looking at the ship through the spyglass again. He could see the people, moving frantically, trying to escape. I'm a soldier, he told himself. I can't pity my enemies.

Only they weren't his enemies a few hours back. They were just couriers in times of peace who didn't expect the civil war to break out. One of them even tried to flirt with Mousac's cousin.

You're a soft-hearted idiot, he told himself and looked at the gun crew. You've rebelled already. Just do it, you idiot.

"Ready the guns", he ordered. "Take the courier down."

They nodded and got to the job. I wonder if they thought the same I did, Mousac asked himself, stepping back and taking earmuffs out of the basket by the door.

_BOOM.  
BOOM.  
BOOM._

A moment of break when the wind chased away the smoke. A short rearrangement of the guns to point accurately.

_BOOM.  
BOOM.  
BOOM.  
BOOM._

Mousac came to the wall's edge and looked through the spyglass. Courier was sinking and men tried to escape it, pulled underwater by their heavy shoes and the small maelstrom of ship going down. Not many managed it. Behind them the man-of-war shot a warning towards the pendulum. Large ship's captain looked at the fort and Mousac would swear the weathered man looked straight at him.

Pendulum surrendered a moment later. Mousac turned back to talk to the prince and froze for a moment. The expression on Hans' face was quick to disappear, replaced but calm anticipation and edge of worry, but it seemed to burn itself into Mousac's memory.

I'm serving a cold-blooded psycho, he thought with a shiver. And I've just committed myself to him, because after sinking this courier, there's no way I could back out of this. And this man will kill me without batting an eye if I try.

Well, he does care for Westerguard. Let's hope that will keep him in check.

* * *

Morning was surprisingly calm. When the sun rose, all seemed oddly similar to how it was the previous evening. One could notice changes, though. Watchmen on pier and ships. Courier missing. Pieces of wood and sail floating slowly. Armed patrols on the streets. Silence, as people wondered what would happen next.

Hans turned back from the window and looked at the man in the room. Hauser seemed completely under control, although prince could see anger boiling underneath. The anger seemed to be directed at somebody else, though - probably the pendulum's captain, who managed to kill eleven of Hauser's men. Admiral might be annoyed with his service here, but this were his men. Mousac seemed slightly distressed and tried not to look directly at Hans. He seemed unsure regarding his actions at night. Hopefully he'd make up his mind soon. Fort butler, Massoix, was serving them drinks with the same stressed-out, frantic movements as usually, reminding Hans of a scared rabbit. Chief of city watch, Dauchere, seemed annoyed, drumming his fingers on the table. Only Vaucherd looked relaxed. He managed not to kill any of his man during the arrest.

"Well, there we are.", Hans said, sitting at the table. "I understand some of you might have doubts about this, but there's no turning back now."

They nodded, Mousac and Hauser as well, to Hans' relief.

"What do we do now, then?", asked the former.

"We arm up. Hopefully, it will take Friedrich a long time before he finds out something's going on."

"What about ships that will be coming here?", Hauser asked.

"We keep them here. We don't let anybody out."

"We've got finite amount of space."

Hand thought about it.

"If we'll run out of space, we'll start destroying some of the ships. Not all of them, of course. I'd rather we had some means of escape if all went to tatters."

They nodded, even though they had to realize that if circumstances were as bad as to validate an escape, they wouldn't manage it on a ship. But hope was a good thing to have.

"What do we do when Friedrich arrives with his forces?", Vaucherd said.

"If he tries negotiations, we negotiate. If he tries assault, we fight back."

"What do we negotiate?", Dauchere said, stopping the drumming.

"Independent Westerguard, of course."

Dauchere nodded to himself and smiled grimly.

"Then I'll better start training my men in invasion repelling."

"Yeah, it will probably come down to that.", Vaucherd agreed. He also smiled, a bit more cheerfully.

"Hey, prince, have you paid some thought to naming our new mighty country?"

Hans shook his head, slightly surprised.

"Not really. And you?"

Vaucherd shrugged.

"How about 'Princedom of Westerguard'?"

The men looked at each other.

"Nice and simple.", Hauser said. "Fine for me."

Others nodded.

"Princedom of Westerguard it is, then.", said Dauchere, rising his glass. "May it grow old and rich."

They toasted to that.

* * *

_Inner Sea_

"Alright. Eat your breakfast, princess."

Bowl of something light-brown and stinky landed on her lap. Anna looked at it.

"What… is this?", she asked, carefully picking it up and smelling. Ouch. Bleh. Sailor called Shorty glared at her.

"It's an oatmeal, princess. What else would it be?"

"I ate oatmeal before, you know. I remember it looking… less like mud and more like food."

Bored - whose real nickname was, of all things, Stick - groaned and took the bowl from her.

"If Her Majesty doesn't want to eat our plebeian food, I'll be all too happy to relieve her of it.", he said.

"Heyeyey, I haven't said I'm not eating it!" She tried to stand up and take it, but the chain on her ankle stopped her from making more than a step. Stick smiled maliciously and spitted to the bowl, then gave it back. Anna looked with disgust at pieces of tobacco he chewed, now swimming in the oatmeal.

With a sharp movement, she thrown the contents of the bowl at Stick. The men jumped back with an unmanly scream, but most of the disgusting oatmeal landed on his clothes, face and hair.

"You b…", he called her names, trying to clean his clothes, but the only thing he managed to do was smearing the stinking thing all over himself. Shorty looked at it with mixed feelings. He leaned to Anna.

"You can forget about eating anything tomorrow.", he told her.

"If all the dishes are of this quality, I can start fasting", she answered.

"We're aboard a ship, not in a freakin' royal palace.", he said. "You think we eat any better?"

"He didn't have to spit in it, though."

"You offended him."

"With what?"

"He's the ship's cook."

Anna winced. Well, stupid me. Still haven't learned to think before acting. But honestly? She had enough. She'd been aboard this ship - or rather under its board - for four days already and she didn't know what's going on, where is she or who kidnapped her. Food they gave here was growing steadily worse, culminating with the oatmeal, now all over pissed off Stick.

"I'm not apologizing to him."

"Your choice. I would if I were you. You see…"

He didn't finish, because Stick suddenly pulled out a monster of a knife and Shorty moved away. Anna squealed, trying to move out of the path of angry men. She couldn't - chain held her ankle…

He pinned her to the wall and put the knife to her throat. His eyes were pretty much level with her and there was pure fury in them. And he stunk. She thought Kristoff and Sven were bad when she met them, but Stick's stink nearly made her faint. He bared his teeth and she shivered.

"Princess", he growled. "You behave. We have a long journey left and the only thing we can't do is killing you. So you don't want to make me angry, because you wouldn't like me when I'm angry. You can never know when will you stay alone with me and there's a strong wind, princess. Nobody will hear you."

Anna tried to react somehow, but the man had a strength of a draft horse. The knife nearly pierced her skin and she didn't dare nodding.

"Alright…", she uttered. "Clear. I'm sorry."

"And you should be.", he let her go and she collapsed on the wooden floor. He murmured something to himself and left, cursing.

Anna looked at Shorty and little man shrugged.

"Sorry, princess. I won't be defending you."

"Figured as much", she agreed, rubbing her throat.

She had to be more careful. She didn't like what Stick was implying. Not at all.

* * *

_Koenigsberg_

Valdemar Schwalzmaar chewed his pipe, watching his men fix the ship, take down the sails and all that. He had already heard the news and was rather angry. The Kingsguards were searching every ship that left the port. Somebody run off, it seemed. The prize for catching that somebody was lovely, but Valdemar doubted he knew anything. Besides, those new controls were rather disruptive for less than legal part of the business he was making. Multiple hiding places aboard _Lucky Zephyr _didn't stand a chance against a searches as fierce as the rumor had them.

"Valdemar!", Lidka screamed from the pier. "Come and see that!"

Curious, he went down the gangplank and joined her. She was holding something.

"What is it?"

"A Wanted poster.", she said. "Just look at this prize! _Fifty thousand marks!_"

"And why are you telling me…" He stopped when she turned the poster for him to see. He leaned closer and goggled.

"That's this boy! Hans… Soor, was he?"

"Him exactly!" She smiled. "So what, honey? Let's make some money, shall we?"


	13. Chapter 13: Outwitting each other

_Arendelle_

Father approached Kai when major was sitting over the paperwork. He stopped a few steps back and asked:

"What is it?"

"Berg's documents. I'm trying to work something out of them."

"Like what?"

"Who else is on their scheme." Kai rested his head on his hands. "But I can't find anything!"

Older Madsen shoved himself a chair and sat right next to Kai.

"Isn't that your handwriting?", he asked, looking at the papers spread out on the desk. "What do you think you can pull out of that?"

"I don't know! Maybe there's something I didn't pay attention to then and…"

"Don't be ridiculous, kid. Do you really think Bjorn wouldn't burn all papers that might compromise him?"

"I don't know!"

"Then believe me when I say he would and get hold of yourself. You've been sitting and suffocating in this study for the last two days. Stop it right now and get out of this room."

"I have to…"

"Stop it, I said. It's not important right now." He stood up and patted Kai on the shoulder.

"Don't blame yourself. There's nothing to blame you _for_, so don't invent reasons, Kai. There's no need."

He beamed over him and collected all the papers.

"I'm eating a dinner with Her Majesty tonight. Willing to accompany me?"

"Uhm… With the Queen?" Kai looked at the papers, then at himself. "Maybe… I guess I'll have to change first…?"

"Yes, that would be advisable. And a bath. Dear, Kai, mother would disown you if she saw you right now. And then she'd strangle me for letting you slip into such a state."

Kai actually managed a chuckle, imagining his sedate, composed mother strangling his father. The general put the papers in the box and shoved it on the shelf.

"Don't worry now. I'm sure you'll get some new things to worry about at the dinner."

* * *

Kai actually managed to get himself quite presentable. He was rather thankful for the hot water in castle bath, as well as silent, nearly invisible servant who made his dress uniform probably cleaner than it was when Kai got it. He still wasn't sure why he was staying in the castle instead of army camp, though. He figured there wasn't much to do for him there, but in the castle all he did was to worry.

The dinner was a small affair. Present were the Queen, general Madsen, Kristoff, baron Sibbern - Royal Chancellor - and Kai himself. The food was good, although rather… exotic for Kai's military-accustomed taste. For a time, the only sounds were the clanks of cutlery and chewing, rather audible in Kristoff's case. Finally the Queen put down her fork and said:

"I hope you enjoyed the meal."

"It was downright… wonderful", said Kristoff, with part of the food still in his mouth. The Queen smiled slightly and Kai noted it seemed to take some of her years away. Then the servants started to collect everything from the table and she went serious again, looking at Sibbern and general Madsen.

"Any word of my sister?"

"No, my lady.", the Chancellor said. "Our scouts can't find her anyway."

"Neither my sources.", the general added.

Her Majesty rubbed her temples.

"She didn't go to the war zone, did she?"

"I hope she didn't.", Kristoff added. "But if she did, I guess we'd have already heard something about it."

"Probably.", she agreed, her face emotionless. She's got much practice, Kai nodded. I wonder if somebody can guess what she's really thinking.

Her Majesty reached for a praline from a glass chalice put on the table by a servant.

"About that, how is the war going?"

Kai was curious himself, so he started to listen.

"So far, no changes.", his father said. "I'm fairly confident that Weseltonians are planning some sort of a trick to drive Olafsen out of the Streams, but so far, they're doing nothing except chasing away or killing any scout who tries to take a look at the High Table. Entire war pretty much turned into series of scout duels."

He took a sip of wine from his goblet and continued.

"Kristiani had joined Olafsen, so our forces in Streams doubled. Right now numerally we're probably equal to Weseltonians."

"Probably.", the Queen noticed.

"Their camp is a white area on scouts' maps, Your Majesty. They might've been sent reinforcements and we wouldn't know anything."

Her Majesty nodded, taking another praline. How does she stay fit, eating so much chocolate?, Kai asked himself with wonder, then chided himself for letting his mind wander.

"And how's Berg's plan going?", Kristoff asked. Kai felt as if somebody stabbed him in the back. Berg had some sort of a plan and was implementing it? Why didn't Kai know about it?

Because you've locked yourself with his papers in a tiny study, that's why. Father was right. It's about time to leave it and focus on now.

"Well, it seems.", the general said. "Of course, so far he didn't reach anything dangerous, so it's hard to say how this will work out in the end."

Kai nodded and so did the Queen. Kristoff didn't seem all that calm, though.

"What if Weasels thought about the same?", he asked.

General shrugged.

"The entire purpose of this maneuvre of his was to pull part of Weseltonian forces away from Olafsen - Olafsen and Kristiani, now. If he'll crash into Weseltonians before reaching High Table, he'll still accomplish his goal."

"True.", Kristoff agreed and they looked at each other with Kai. Major saw reflection of his own thought in mountaineer's eyes.

_And maybe he'll get himself killed in the process._

Short silence was broken when the Queen leaned back in her chair, chewing on yet another praline.

"There's also a matter of sending somebody to try and negotiate peace with Weselton.", she noted. "I've been talking with chancellor Sibbern and we're both sure of who to send."

"Then who will it be, Your Majesty?", general asked.

Kai was quite curious about it too, but then he noticed the queen looking at him and Kristoff. He blinked. She surely wasn't thinking about…

"Wait, us?", Kristoff asked backing off. "Like… me and Kai? Are you…"

General and chancellor glared at him and he hid his head in his shoulders.

"I mean, I'm no diplomat. I'm a… that Royal Ice Deliverer thing."

"And you still think it's your job to deliver ice?", the Queen asked and… yes, she did smile. Kristoff, for a contrast, didn't seem happy at all. He nodded gloomily.

"Yeah, I should've figured this out by now. I'm some sort of a personal agent of yours, right?"

"Right. Don't worry. You're not going alone."

Kai felt every pair of eyes in the room turn to him.

"Uhm, Your Majesty, with all due respect, are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, I don't have any more experience in diplomacy than you do…"

"Comparing your turn of phrase to Kristoff's, you have much more.", Sibbern noted with a bit of amusement, to mountaineers grunt. "Besides, you're both a soldier and an heir to a barony. Hardly the worst choice for this mission."

Kai glanced at the Queen, who still looked at him with a smile.

"Then… I guess it will be my pleasure?"

"See?", his father said, patting him on the arm. "You're already getting good at it."

* * *

After dinner, Kai and his father walked together, as their quarters were next to each other.

"So, did you enjoy the dinner with the Queen?", general asked. Kai, still a bit shocked from his new assignment, shrugged.

"It surely was… informative."

Father chuckled.

"It's not what I've been asking about, you know."

Kai eyed him.

"Why, you mentioned the Queen specifically for some reason?"

His father shrugged with a mysterious smile and Kai… he goggled at him.

"You are _not_ thinking what I think you're thinking!"

"Why not? I mean… she is still young. And soon there will be talks of finding a suitable husband for her."

"But… father, we're in the middle of war!"

"Long-time planning, Kai. It's a useful skill."

"But… come on! She's a _Queen_, for Almighty's sake!"

"And you're an heir to a barony. You can't get much higher than that. Only the king holds more power than a baron. So…"

"But… father! I…", he felt himself reddening. "She doesn't even notice me!"

"Oh, so that's why she has chosen you for a diplomatic mission to country we're at war with? Fascinating."

"But… Surely there are better candidates!"

"Really? Funny thing, I'd think you'll be oriented better than me, seeing how you were in the capital when I was away. Let me recap it for you then: the only person of proper gender, high enough rank and eligible age apart from you is baron Sibbern's son. And you know what would people say if the Chancellor started to push him to marry the Queen?"

Kai gulped.

"That he's one of those evil chancellors from bad books, trying to control Her Majesty?"

"Exactly! So with young Sibbern out of equation, that leaves only you."

"Father…"

"Yes, Kai?"

"You know… this conversation makes me… like, really, really uncomfortable. I don't think I need _that_ on my mind right before swimming to an enemy country."

Father just chuckled and gave him a pat on the shoulder. Then he turned to enter his room.

"I'm just telling you to think about it."

"Yeah, sure. Can we stop talking about it, please?"

"Sure. We'll come back to it later." He disappeared in his room. Kai felt his face burning red.

"Father!"

* * *

_Weselton_

Eric walked down into the port and looked around. There were few ships standing there, and most displayed Weselton flags. There were some - although you could count them on two hands - flying the flags of other nations: one from Tampere, few from Confederacy and Isles. Eric wasn't looking for them, though. He was looking for one particular Weselton ship.

_Graceful Lady_. That was the name of the ship of Hunter's dead spy. Eric had managed to put his hands on spymaster's documents by chance, really, when he passed the door to the man's study and discovered them open. He was lucky to start looking in the pile titled "trash", figuring it to be the most probable one. He found the paper and slipped away with it just before the servant came and put all the "trash" pile in the fire.

Abraham Sidney was the dead captain's name. Eric, careful to hide his face, asked about him in the portside bars. Yes, they knew him. Well, he arrived in the port maybe a week back, they said after a beer or two. He did seem kind of worried and didn't want to talk, they added after he paid for their next beer. And yes, _Graceful Lady _was still standing in the port. So Eric paid for two more rounds for a promise that they won't mention his interest in Sidney to anybody.

He slowly walked down the pier, carefully checking the names of each Weselton ship in a row. But no - she wasn't there. He cursed silently. Had _Graceful Lady _left already? She sure wasn't standing in royal port. Or maybe Hunter had her burnt? No, impossible - it would be the talk of all bars.  
He stopped at the end of the pier, then went back, checking again. Maybe she changed name, he thought. But no - folks in the bar agreed on what Sidney's ship's name was. So where was it?

He went back to the pier and noticed a man on Tampere ship eying him curiously. He sure didn't look like Tampere - his skin was much too dark for that. More like Coronian, really. Maybe he was Coronian, Eric thought. Maybe the ship was actually Coronian spy…

Wait. If _Graceful Lady _was spying in Arendelle, she sure wouldn't fly Weselton flag. I'm an idiot, Eric told himself, checking the names of other countries' ships. Not Islander, he guessed. Islanders weren't welcome in Arendelle this days either.

It was Confederate ship. Eric stood in front of it. It seemed to be in a good shape, although in strong need of cleaning. There seemed to be no one aboard.

"Hello aship!", he called as he heard the sailors do. It took a while for somebody to appear aboard and it wasn't an officer, but a sailor.

"What?", the man asked. He clearly wasn't happy about somebody bothering him. If I am to learn anything, thought Eric, I have to find some way to convince him to listen to me first.

"Do you know where's your captain?"

"What's your business? He's not here."

"What if I told you I know where he is?"

Sailor eyed him suspiciously.

"And you know?"

"Yep."

The man disappeared and Eric worried that he simply dismissed the prince as a fraud or joker. But moment later a gangplank hit the pier.

* * *

"So", the man said, staring at Eric with his head low, "you're saying he's dead?"

There were three sailors with him now, all big, no-nonsense men who dwarfed Eric. I better convince them, prince thought. At least convince them that I'm a prince.

"Saw him myself.", he said. "Storm threw his body on the royal beach."

"Oh, really? And what would make you wander on the king's own beach, man?", another sailor asked.

Eric reached under his tunic and pulled out a royal ring he carried on a necklace with him all the time. Sailors leaned close to examine it, then looked at Eric.

"Your Highness Prince.", the one who let him aboard murmured. "Since when are you an investigator?"

"Or a spymaster, for that matter.", another one said. The rest looked at him and sailor shrugged. "What? We all knew the officers were making extra money on spying for His Majesty." He turned back to Eric. "So?"

"I'm fairly sure colonel Hunter - he's the real spymaster - had him murdered and I want to know why."

Sailors looked at each other.

"Whoa.", the one who asked about spymaster said. "Well, that would explain why he's absent."

"Sure", another one said. "Hunter didn't tell you?"

"I think he didn't.", Eric said. "Why else would he kill your captain than to hide information he didn't want us to know?"

"Right." The man shook his head. "Afraid we can't help you, though. It was the officers who were managing this spying thing. They never told us anything."

"Then where are your officers?"

"Good question."

"Probably in the same place captain was before storm threw him out.", another one noticed.

"Nah, come on. At least some of them must be hiding.", said yet another one.

"Then where could I find them?", Eric asked.

They were thinking for a moment before the one who asked about Eric as spymaster said:

"The first - first officer - had the best chances to run. He knows all the smugglers."

"Could he hide with one of them?", Eric asked.

"Probably."

"Which one?"

"Hm… You know the man called Drachner?"

Eric froze. Drachner again. Was this man everywhere?

"Felix Drachner, yeah. I've heard about him."

"Then that's where I suggest you look for the first."

* * *

Eric left the ship with some information. _Graceful Lady_'s first officer was called William Fry and he was short, stocky man, slightly overweight, balding, with short, blond hair. The bar that served as Drachner's men's den was called _The Red Boar_ and was on the outskirts of port. That's where Eric went.

_Red Boar_ was a small tavern stuck between a cheap motel and a house of dubious reputation. When Eric entered, he nearly choked on the pipe smoke, bear and sweat that seemed to fill the air. The entire place was crowded and covered in shadow which hid the faces of men - sailors, blokes and more dangerously-looking types - who sat there. All in all, a typical run-down place, like in those pirate stories. Eric sat by the bar and ordered a lager, then looked around.

It was stupid. Fry would surely not sit in the bar, drinking, where everyone could see him and push a knife through his guts. He was probably hiding upstairs. But how could Eric get there? The place was smugglers' den…

Well, worth a try. Maybe they'll be too busy marveling at his stupidity to actually kill him. He finished his beer, paid for it and left, looking for stairs. Unfortunately, there was a guard waiting there, huge man with pig's eyes, scanning the crowd. Not the type uncle Andrew hired - much smarter. I've got to distract him somehow, Eric thought. How? What did they do in all these stories?

Passing a table, he knocked the beer off. The man who drank it stood up with a fit of rage that caught the attention of others.

"Hey, you! Watch your steps!"

"Sorry.", Eric murmured, trying to pass, but then he was caught and pinned to the ground with a slum and thump he could feel in his head. Angry, drunk man looked at him.

"And you think…!", he started.

"Hey, I thought you were into girls!", another sailor said mockingly.

The Angry didn't like that at all. He let go of Eric and with curses, thrown himself at the mocker. Sailor answered in fashion and Eric scrambled to his feet when men around him used the opportunity to start a bar fight.

Half on his knees, hearing shouts and broken glass and wood over him, Eric managed to get to the stairs. No guard? He scanned the bar quickly, but couldn't make anything out in the darkness and loud fight. Doesn't matter. Jumping by two steps, he got upstairs.

Sounds of fight were more muffled there and the place was surprisingly clean. Eric walked quickly, clenching his hands into fists and trying to hear something.

He stopped and crouched, hearing voices behind the door.

"So yeah, we offed him. And what? You think it's such a problem, offing you as well?"

"But… but why? Drachner promised me protection!"

Was it Fry, or somebody else?

"Maybe. But he promised it to the other guy too, and see how this worked out?"

"But why me? I have nothing to do with Sidney!"

Nothing to do with Sidney? So the man probably wasn't Fry… Then where was _Lady_'s first officer? Could he be the man killed? Eric cursed in his head.

"Oh, sure. You were chatting like best buds with that round officer of his. Sorry, buddy, but no discussion here. If you sit still, it won't hurt you."

"Please, no…"

The man could know something. I have to keep him alive somehow, Eric thought and decided to improvise.

He stood up, opened the door and froze. There were two people in the room, tall, slender man younger than Eric and huge bloke with a giant hunting knife, both sitting by the table, the former clearly terrified. The latter looked at Eric, who found himself at loss of words. Say something, you idiot!

"Somebody killed the watchmen at the door!", he screamed. Bloke stood up.

"What?"

"I'm telling you, somebody killed him! He started the fight, pulled the man down and knifed him!"

Bloke cursed.

"Right, moment."

He turned to tall man and Eric decided to do something. He grabbed the chair and broke it on bloke's head. Monster of a man only shook his head and turned back to Eric, who was left with table leg in his hands. He punched the man again and the bloke rose a knife to strike. Before he could stab Eric, though, tall man grabbed him by the wrist and stuck his fingernails in it. Bloke screamed and let go of his knife, which Eric grabbed and hit him between the eyes with its hilt.

He heard a crack and bloke slumped to the ground. They looked at each other with tall man.

"There really is a fight going on down there", Eric said.

"I know a back exit!", tall man answered, terrified.

They exited the place and ran until they were sure nobody was following them. Then they stopped. Tall man leaned on the wall, panting heavily, and Eric put his hands on his knees, breathing. He looked up.

"Harvey Redd.", the tall man said. "Man, I owe you my life. Hell, I owe you, I freakin' owe you, thank you, thank you…"

"Alright.", Eric nodded. "I'm looking for information."

"I'll tell you anything you want, men. I owe you…"

"Yes, I've heard that. What did Fry tell you? About why he's hiding? Anything?"

Redd bit his lip and stared into the sea for a moment, calming down. Then he answered:

"He said gov' guys were after him. Knifed his captain, he said, and were going after him."

"Why?" I know that already. Tell me more.

"His captain was working for the govs. He brought them some info and govs didn't like it." Redd shrugged. "So they offed him".

"Do you know what was this info the… govs were so unhappy about?"

"Yeah… He said Arendellans didn't want to start a war with Weselton. That the entire case was a huge-ass misunderstanding."

Eric nodded, sour. This trip, he thought, was a waste of time. So what that they didn't want war? It happened anyway. But…

"Hey, and when did Sidney tell the govs about it?", he asked.

"Like… dunno. A week ago? Maybe more. Fry said it, but I don't remember."

"But before or after the army left?"

"Hm… before. Yes." Redd nodded fiercely. "I'm sure it was before."

Eric blinked, surprised. Before? What was going on? Sidney arrives to tell Hunter that Arendelle's new maneuvers are just a training and not declaration of war. Hunter then kills Sidney and tells Eric's father that Arendelle is moving to declare war. Sidney's first officer, Fry, runs off and hides at Drachner's place. Then Drachner orders to have him killed as well…

There was a scheme, Eric realized in shock, to start war between Arendelle and Weselton. And it succeeded. Who would want war? What would they make of it?

Drachner said that queen Elsa will be problematic for his business. But… a war? What for? And… If Drachner and Hunter were on it, was Margaret as well? As who, a liaison? And what was her profit? Or Hunter's, for that matter?

I have to tell father about it, he thought. But… my word won't be enough to stop war. I have no proof except for Redd's words… And Hunter can always say that I paid Redd to say that, or just kill him to silence him.

Eric cursed silently. Something had to be done. Only he had no idea what could it be.


	14. Chapter 14: Best laid plans…

_Stone Streams_

Something must be wrong with my sense of self-preservation, thought corporal Vincent Meyers, looking out from behind some rock. I've almost gotten myself killed the last time, he continued in his head, and now I'm back here? I must've been struck by the same madness that all officers fell to. Ha! He looked at himself with disdain and resumed the observation.

This time at least he didn't wander down the canyon, where every damn merchie musketeer could get a shot at him. Instead, he was up on the rock between two of them, slowly sneaking over Arendelle line. Well - he wasn't over the line _yet_. It was still below and in front of him and it looked even bigger than when Meyers fashioned himself into needle pillow. Of course it is, he thought, slowly laying on his belly and crawling on the least snowy path he could find. Seeing how ever since this cavalry failure the officers apparently did nothing except sitting on their asses, it was small wonder that merchies made themselves some proper barricades. In comparison, the previous ones seemed almost makeshift. What was wrong with Weselton officers?!

For a moment, Vincent shooed out those thoughts and focused on sneaking. It was late evening, when sun shone straight into merchies' eyes, outlining every shape. It wasn't the biggest problem, thought - the biggest was snow and ice on the rocks. It was terribly easy to kick down some of it by accident and it had been repeatedly proven that merchies didn't miss debris falling on their heads. In the beginning, scouts were chased away immediately, but recently merchies let them pass further and then attacked, making sure that nobody escaped.

* * *

Sneaking was long and arduous work. Vincent crawled painfully slowly through snow and rock, holding his breath, hearing every creak of snow, every rustle of fabric, every heartbeat, as if it was cannon shot. Leg by leg, hand by hand, pulling himself forward so slowly, and so loudly… They sure must've heard me now, he thought at one moment. There's no way they're not ambushing me right now. The thought made him freeze and he slowly let out his breath, slooowly, slooowly looking around. He gulped, suddenly seeing crouched silhouette in this distinctive merchie scout hood, right to his left, maybe two meters further. You don't see me, he told enemy scout, pressing his face down, to the snow, hoping that his white uniform will hide him and that his gray boots are on the rock, not ice. You don't see me… He slowly took a breath, not daring to move. His heartbeat boomed in his head. Merchie must hear that, he thought. I'm making noise like a charging bull. But everything was oddly silent.

He didn't know how long did he stay like this. He tried to count his heartbeat, but let it go after hitting three thousand. Occasionally, he heard small creak of snow as merchie watchman changed his position a bit. Meyers didn't dare moving or rising his head. He felt his clothes slowly leaking as snow found his way to his skin. It was damn cold. I'll start shaking in a moment, thought Vincent. I'll start shaking and he'll hear me…

Snow started to creak again, this time louder and longer. He's standing up, Meyers thought, feeling a pang of panic. He must've seen me. He's coming with a knife to kill me. Vincent didn't dare move, though. Please, just go away… Yes. Yes, the sounds _were_ moving away…

"It's me!", he nearly jumped, hearing voice with merchie accent behind him.

"Sure! We can still shoot you, though!", somebody down in the canyon offered.

"Good luck trying, mudwalker!"

Right, he's just checking with the army down there, Vincent thought, so that they won't put a bullet in his back. He waited until he didn't hear the sound of boots and then rose his head, breathing with relief.

He blinked. It was dark already. I must've been kissing the snow for two hours at least, Vincent thought with surprise. Alright. Easier for me, right? Gotta move forward, if I go back, I'll sure bump into that scout… He resumed sneaking slowly. Streams became more steep and he was worried that he'd start sliding down, but apparently he had enough friction to stay in place.

Finally he got to the point where he could see what's behind the enemy line. He cursed deep inside, seeing cannons, then stretched his neck, examining them closer. Alright, they might overshoot the Streams, but there's no way they'll hit our positions on Hight Table. So, danger for an incoming army, but not at the moment. He looked more. There seemed to be more soldiers roaming around by the torches, campfires and cooking hearths, chatting and eating. Meyers pitied that his position forbade him from pulling out his spyglass, but he was quite sure they had insignia of two different corps. So merchies got reinforcements, he thought, counting the soldiers. Damn it.

Hearing sounds, he pressed his head to the snow again. There were two pairs of boots coming his way. Please, don't step on me… He heard a conversation nearing him.

"…three. You'd think they have some unlimited source of scouts. Oh, I know! Some kind of a magic box that just keep on spawning them, all armed and ready to get themselves killed!"

"Thanks, now I won't be able to unsee it." The two men laughed and the second one continued, "But if they keep on losing them like that, they'll soon have no scouts left."

"Unless their entire army is scouts. It's Weasels, remember." They laughed again, passing by Vincent. Meyers gritted his teeth. Suddenly the steps stopped.

"What was that?", asked the first man.

"What?"

"I'd swear I've heard something."

Oh, no, thought Meyers. They'll find me in a moment. Any moment now… Any moment…

Suddenly a guitar started playing down in the canyon. He took a silent, deep breath, hearing a well-known melody drowning any noise he made, and thought a small prayer of thanks to the Almighty.

"Probably just mudwalker tuning up his guitar.", said the second man.

"He can't play for shit.", another one noticed and they resumed their walk.

Meyers took yet another deep breath and resumed sneaking. A few meters further wind in his back brought him another bit of conversation between the two men.

"…night shift. Why can't we ever stay up here all day instead of all night?"

"Don't worry. It's supposed to rain tomorrow, so I'd rather…"

Great. They'll be here all night. So I'm not coming back that way, Meyers thought, crawling forward and looking around, hearing sounds of night activity all around him. I've got to find some other way. If I stay here until morning, I'm as good as dead.

* * *

_Unnamed valley_

General Bjorn Berg looked around from atop his horse and nodded to himself. Fourth Corps were moving a bit slower now, but that was because they had to compress a bit into tighter column to move by the path he was leading them on. The slowdown was good for the men. They were entering the war zone. It was time to take some rest and be ready for the fighting.

"Alright!" He rode to his commanders, pitying yet again the loss of Kai whom he could send on errands. "Let's set camp for tonight! No point walking in the darkness, breaking legs and doing all other stupid things!"

They yessired him cheerfully and went to pass the information. Berg could almost sense the relief going through the column like ripples on the lake and smiled to himself. After a few days of forced march "creative whining about Berg" became Fourth Corps' favorite sport. Or so he thought. He wasn't sure, really. He _did_ miss Kai, who'd always share army news and rumor with him. Why couldn't you agree, he asked the major silently. Why did you have to stick to this stupid noble honor?

Camp was set rather quickly, especially compared to their first night in knee-deep snow. Horses, walked around, trampled the snow, making spaces for tents and campfires. There wasn't much wood around to burn with, but they still had some with them. Berg told them to burn all they wanted. The next night there'd be no fires. Somebody pulled out a banjo and general winced, then moved away. He hated the instrument.

He called the scouts commander to himself and they rode together to the entrance of small passage that was to lead them behind Weasels' lines. 'Small' was relative, of course - it would definitely enable the army to move with some reasonable speed. It looked like a bigger canyon of Stone Streams, as if a river shaped it. Among Sami - mountaineers, Arendellans called them - it was known as Tampani trail, Twisty Throat trail. Seeing it with his own eyes, Berg couldn't help but agree that it looked like a giant throat. He leaned to the scout commander.

"Send your people up there", he ordered. "I want to make sure the trail is clear before we go there."

"Yes sir.", the man nodded and left, calling to his people.

Berg nodded to himself and looked again into darkness between the mountains. Well, let's hope it will go as good as planned.

* * *

_Stone Streams_

Looking around, Meyers carefully slid down the wall onto the stonebed. He crouched quickly, feeling ridiculously exposed against the gray rock. At night, out of the snow, he could just as well have a target cross on his chest and back. But he couldn't go up any further - there were watchmen scanning the area carefully. He had to move out of sight.

And that, unfortunately, meant that he had to cross the camp.

In his head, he congratulated himself on choosing one of the northernmost paths down. There weren't much people there and he didn't have to sneak by the main bulk of the army. He still had no idea what to do after sunrise, but getting away from thousands of enemies seemed like a good start.

Less talking, more acting, he told himself, looking around. He landed near the latrine dug in ice, awfully smelly, enveloped in darkness and currently devoid of human activity. In some distance, people sat by the fires, looking at light. Hopefully, they were half-blinded and wouldn't notice one Weselton scout sneaking by. But first… he felt naked, taking off the hood of his jacket, but while the color of his uniform might let him pass as merchie scout, the shape of the hood was distinctive enough to out him as Weseltonian.

Feeling his heart thumping in his chest again, he started to walk down. Chill, he told himself, lowering his head and pushing his hands into his pockets. Appear relaxed. Walk calmly. Not too fast. Not too slow. Keep your pace. Don't speed up. Slower. A bit slower… Control your breath. Step by step he came further down, between soldiers, watchmen and dozens of people that seemed to swarm him, talking, eating, joking, playing cards, listening to guitar and banjo playing together… He could almost hear among their voices somebody calling him and recognizing enemy in him. What if I meet an officer? Do I know how to do merchie salute? This is going to end so badly…

"Hey, scout boy!", somebody called him. He inhaled sharply. Don't snap your head up!, he told himself, nearly getting a heart attack. He looked up and to the left. There were few men sitting by the fire. One was looking at him.

Don't speak. They'll get you by your accent. He looked at the man and tilted his head quizzically. Soldier rose his flask.

"Wanna drink with us?"

No way in hell! He shook his head, then mocked yawning as a reason.

"Ha! Going to sleep with the sun?", man laughed and waved him to go. Vincent breathed with relief and passed him.

He got out of the Streams and into the camp proper. Soldiers of two corpses were talking together, fixing equipment, going in and out of tents, playing cards and observing the players. Meyers could smell food and felt his stomach rumble. He hadn't eaten anything since just after midday.

Suddenly he nearly bumped into somebody. He rose his head and his heart stopped when he noticed scout uniform and captain insignia. I'm so much screwed…

"After service already?", officer asked.

Must stay silent… can't stay silent…

"Yes, sir.", he creaked, feeling his heart in his throat. Captain narrowed his eyes and looked at him more carefully. So dead, I'm so dead…

"Whoa, kid, you've spent way too long outside. You've got absolutely atrocious hoarseness. Go to the healer. You're out of service tomorrow."

"Thank you, sir.", he managed to creak out and both men went their way. I hope I'm going in the direction of healer tents, he thought, looking back. Fortunately, captain wasn't paying him any attention anymore. He breathed deeply with relief and then coughed. Well, I could use a healer, he told himself and broke into more purposeful pace.

Sneaking out wasn't all that hard. He found latrines - by smell - walked behind them, looked around and when no one was looking, fell to the snow and crawled out quickly, all the time expecting to hear sound of alarm and pursuit behind him. But nothing happened and he grinned to himself. Success!  
He crawled for the next half an hour until he was sure he's out of range of watchmen and camps, then rose into crouch and scanned the area quickly. He cursed, seeing the trail he left. It's supposed to rain in the morning, he remembered. Maybe they won't notice… Hey, I'm officially the first soldier in this war to enter definitely Arendellan territory, he thought with slight grin. Yay for me, huh?

He stood up and run north, head low, under the cover of darkness.

* * *

_Tampani trail_

Scout private Zoega run quickly up the twisty trail, looking to the sides and watching the stone walls of the passing carefully. He was to check if all is fine around, and so far, it seemed that Weasels had no idea about Tampani's existence. Good, he thought, general's plan seem to be going well.  
He stood for a moment and looked at the ragged edges of the canyon. I wonder if I could get up there, he thought, then looked back at two scouts following him. Maybe not tonight… But it would be nice. The view from up there must be magnificent.

The inspection of Tampani proven that indeed, there was nobody on the trail, and actually nobody in the part of High Table connected with the trail. Happy about it, general Berg sent the scouts to sneak up on Wesels and see what's up in enemy camp. He woke everybody else up by false dawn and when sun started to appear over the mountains, they were already on the trail, riding carefully. By scouts' reports, Berg estimated that they should make it on the High Table sometime after nightfall. Then they'd set for the night and get ready to move against Weasels by the next day. So far, it seemed to go seamlessly, apart from cold rain that started to fall shortly before midday and just didn't want to end, making everyone miserable.

Actually, such a good state of affairs started to worry Berg. It was going almost _too_ well. No plan should go this far without problems on the way. General couldn't help nervousness creeping up on him. Something will go badly soon, he thought. No way this plan will go to the end without any problems.

He could think of a few - snowstorm scattering his forces, Weasels moving against him in strength, Weasels killing all of his man, Weasels ambushing him somehow… He looked up at the edges of the trail and looked at scout commander, who tried to cover his head better from the rain and failed at it.  
"Do we have people up there?", general asked.  
"Uhm… We will in a moment, sir.", the man answered.

* * *

_Over the trail_

Rain has finished a few minutes ago, leaving Meyers wet and shaking. Freezing, lying on the not-quite-melted snow, he looked at the army passing below with shock. So that's what they've been up to. They've found some path that wasn't on Weselton maps and were going to ambush Weseltonians. Their forces weren't all too impressive, that was sure, but with what they had they could ride the edges of camp like some guerrilla, or just pass the army altogether and go further west. They could ravage the countryside all they wanted, militia wouldn't stand a chance against them.

"Sneaky bastards", he hushed, then coughed in his sleeve. He really needed to see a healer.

He started to move away, sliding on wet rock and muddy rain-snow, intending to run to home camp and warn them, when he noticed movement to his right. He froze halfway, looking. A man in merchie scout uniform climbed up and looked around, then looked down.

"View is great!", he called.

"Back to work, Zoega!", was the answer.

"Yessir!", the scout said cheerfully and started to walk along the path. Right at Meyers. He cursed in his head. If the scout walked at him, even if Vincent managed to kill him, they'd be visible like actors on the stage. No way army wouldn't notice them. He started to crawl back as quickly as possible. Maybe he won't notice him… At least his uniform was covered in half-thawed snow as well, making him blend in…

"And what's that?", merchie murmured, walking away from the edge, towards Meyers. Vincent crawled back further, pulling out his knife and cursing in his head all the time. Alright, they're probably invisible from here…

Merchie was maybe three steps from him when he noticed Vincent. His eyes went wide and he opened his mouth, but Meyers didn't let him scream. He darted forward, and pushed the man to the ground, covering his mouth and sitting on him. He rose his hand… for a moment he couldn't move, seeing terrified eyes and face younger than his. Then his training broke in. He brought the knife down on the throat, then again, blood gushed out of cut neck, spraying him on jacket and face, there was gurgle of escaping air and after a moment of absolute fear boy's eyes went blank.

Feeling blood slowly streaming down his face, he took a few deep breaths, shaking slightly. This was different than sniping men with a crossbow. Terrifyingly different. Right, man. Get yourself together. He looked around, waiting for shouts of alarm, but none came.

He spent the next two minutes covering the dead body and blood with mud-snow, then tried to get the blood off his face, but didn't succeed without hot water. He coughed a few times again and moved further away from the edge, then stood up and ran in direction the Weselton camp should be.

* * *

_Stone Streams_

Captain Soren Nexø scanned quickly the N20, chewing on the sandwich. Nothing. Night was falling quickly, ending yet another day with some scout incidents, but no attacks. Not that he minded - he'd much rather it stayed that way and higher-ups worked out some diplomatic consensus to avoid killing more of Nexø's men - but it was suspicious. There were no talks of cease-fire, so why did Weasels act like this? Something was wrong. Only when would the hell break lose?

Night fell finally and men relaxed a bit. After the day-long rain the ice coating the Streams melted partially, but stone didn't get any less slippery - and now it was accompanied by water streaming down. Nobody would be trying to get down tonight, especially in the darkness…

Suddenly Nexø heard a sharp pang of crossbow chord and looked up at between the canyons. There was a scout standing up with his weapon out.

"What's that?", captain called. Scout didn't look at him, answering:

"Sorry! I thought I've seen… Oh, _shit_!"

"What is it?" Nexø grabbed his musket, standing up.

"They're going here!"

"Scouts?"

"Not scouts! Half of their damn army!", Scout crouched and frantically started getting down into canyon, looking up all the time. "They're attacking from between the canyons!"


	15. Chapter 15: Anvil and hammer

_Stone Streams_

Nexø cursed, calling his men to arms and running to the wall of N20. They said no side could push the army through the in-betweens! So much for scouts' and higher-ups' predictions! Damn it, damn it, _damn it_!

He heard the first shots and screams of surprise, looking for foothold. Not just our in-between, he thought, trying to climb up. All of them. Hurry up, man, hurry up… he could almost hear the thumping of Weasels' boots on the rock. He finally grabbed the edge of a canyon and pulled himself up, then lay flat on the ground and looked to the right. In twilight it seemed like wall of shadow was moving in his direction. Still quite far, though. Still quite far…

He helped a man climbing from N19 and turned to help his own men to get on the in-between. Suddenly a bullet whizzed right past him and he fell to the ground, looking up. Not so far! He pulled out his musket and tried to pull the trigger, but stupid thing didn't take the snow well. To hell with it. He thrown it down and resumed helping his men. Then they took the pikes… He heard sickening splash of ripped flesh and man right in front of him fell to the ground, his arm missing. Nexø bent down in surprise and _BAANNNNG!_, suddenly all of his helmet was ringing when a bullet hit it. Thanks Supplies for the helmets, he thought, moving to the center of the in-between and looking upwards.

Why weren't they firing in a line? They had no officers, or what? In front of Nexø, his people collected themselves and tried to make a line with pikes. Soldiers cursed. Too slippery, Nexø realized, and too rocky for the line to actually make sense. We'll do more harm to ourselves than Weasels.

"Drop the pikes, draw the swords!", he ordered and heard clanks. "Musketeers, fire, then crossbows, then swords!"

_BOOM!_, maybe half of the guns fired and smoke covered everything. Shooters dropped their muskets, then bang-bang-bang of crossbow fire and enemy boom-boom-boom and screams and blood and men fell, somebody screamed, everybody was screaming, body slid into the canyon, smoke deafened and blinded there were shadow there…

Deep breath, Nexø ordered himself and inhaled, feeling acidic taste of gunpowder in his lungs. Weasels were almost there, but they took them down, they took some of them down, good. Nexø drawn his sword and said:

"All right, men! Let's do it!"

And then Weasels hit them.

It was madness. It was screaming, raving, bloody madness. Smoke and darkness covered everything, obfuscating faces and uniforms and the only rule was that man who attacked you was your enemy. Pathetic "line" of Arendelle was broken nearly immediately and everybody found themselves fighting with everybody. Nexø found himself in front of a screaming man with sword risen, so he pushed his own blade in his stomach and kicked him off the blade. The man slid down and two others took his place. He parried the cut, tried to attack one man, felt slash of hot on his cheek, bent, kicked, cut the other man, he parried, the first one was behind him, he gave him a huge kick, pushed him off the ground, the first one caught his hand and pulled, he lost balance, punched with his free hand, kicked the man between the legs, the other one grunted, pushed Nexø forward, captain lost his footing, grabbed the man and pulled him with him, turned sharply…

They hit the canyon with a crack and his enemy's eyes went blank, head turned oddly. Nexø took a deep breath and then panic hit him. What if he was attacked by his own man in this madness? He stood up, but no - red uniform, red uniform, good… He turned and looked up.

No way for him to climb back. Up there smoke cleared, revealing dozens of figures fighting, sometimes swords, sometimes knives, sometimes fists and teeth. They were pushed off the canyon, stabbed and they bled and died and around Nexø there were dozens of dead bodies in uniforms of both colors. He took a breath and…

_BOOOM_

He jumped to the ground and looked back. Cannons? Why were cannons firing?!

_BOOOM_

Cannonball flew over his head and he heard screams from forward… He turned there and felt like screaming himself. Weasels! They were pushing at them both ways! Deep breath. Deep breath… It stunk with blood. He crawled to the scout…

_BOOOM_

"I need reinforcements here!", he screamed over the thunder of cannons, "Right now!"

Scout nodded and started to slide down quickly. Nexø looked up and froze in terror. The oncoming army looked like a horde, speeding down, despite cannons making huge holes in men and horses…

_BOOOM_

He slid under the canyon wall, among the bodies, I'm dead, he told himself, look dead, look dead, I'm dead… Endless cannonade started as they were running right past him, not paying him or the dead a second thought, battle still raged on the in-between and everywhere else, there was too many of them…

_BOOOM_

Screams and horses and men falling and the endless thump of hooves and boots… Nexø nearly screamed, feeling his left hand exploding with pain and crack of broken bones, then again, when dead body fell on him, he went silent, Almighty, dead were heavy…

Finally the Weasels rode past him and Nexø took a deep breath, then pushed the body off himself. He looked at it and shivered. Arendellan, though Nexø didn't recognize the face. His hand ached.

_BOOOM_

He crawled out of the bodies feeling sticky with blood and finding it hard to breath. He looked up and jumped to his feet when another body fell to the ground. Red uniform. Weasel. He looked up again and cheered a bit. There were no red uniforms left. His man turned to him, then somebody rose a crossbow.

"Heyeyeyey, it's me, it's me, don't kill me!", he screamed rising his head. Would-be shooter lowered his crossbow and looked at him with shock.

"Shit, sir! We're sorry!", another man said. "Your uniform turned all red!"

Nexø looked at himself and shrugged, then looked back up.

"How many of you are left?", he asked. "Jump down here!"

From Arendelle side he heard the sounds of battle. He looked at the breached defences and turned back to his men. About thirty were left, some of which had to be from N19. He gulped. He lost nearly half of them. I should've tried to stay up there, help them… He banished the thoughts.

"Weasels are on their merry way to massacre our camp.", he said to his men. "Somebody give me a sword, we're not letting that happen."

Man nodded, all grim.

"Sir, with your hand…?", somebody asked.

"I'm right-handed.", Nexø answered and took a sword from somebody. Then he waved and they went down, half-running, half-sliding.

They hit Weasels from the back like a small hammer and the madness resumed.

* * *

_High Table_

Meyers coughed strongly enough to reel on his legs, then stopped and coughed a few more times. I feel like dying, he thought, slow and painful death. How far was this damn camp? It seemed like he was walking for ages now. He coughed again, feeling like he's about to spit out his own lungs, and resumed walk on the half-frozen water coated with half-melted ice coated in deep layer of almost-snow-but-still-water. He was freezing…

Finally he saw some figures in white. The couple approached him quickly.

"Identify yourself!", one called to him. Meyers recognized the voice and told Jenkins where he could stick it.

"Vince?", asked another scout, Thompson, in surprised voice. "Where the hell have you been?"

"In half of the damn mountains, I guess.", Meyers answered and coughed again. "Merchies found themselves a mountain passage to the north and are pushing through it."

"What? But… we're attacking them right now!", Jenkins said.

"Yeah, seems some of them didn't notice, 'cause they were sure as hell going here when I left them", he said and another cough nearly sent him to the ground.

Half an hour later, he was in dry clothes, in the tent, next to the stove and with mug of hot tea in his hands. Felt like heaven. He finished making his report to the captain and the man leaned back, cursing.

"Right now, the entire army is in the Streams, fighting merchies", he said after a moment. "How soon you think those merchies in the north can attack us?"

"If they stop for the night? Sometime about midday."

Captain nodded, stood up and started walking in circles, tugging at his beard. Then he rushed suddenly out of the tent, leaving Meyers with his cup of tea. Vincent drank the rest and, feeling oddly relaxed, closed his eyes. He fell asleep in matter of moments.

* * *

_Stone Streams_

Nexø felt both of his hands aching as he cut the man in the throat. Red uniform fell to the ground, gushing blood, and captain looked around frantically, looking for enemies. He heard the sounds of battle, but here… Here…

"We won?", the man - boy, really - next to him asked in shaky voice.

"I… I think so… At least here…"

He heard a sharp sound over the battle. Was it… bugles? Weasels? What were they calling?

A moment later another man jumped from between the tents.

"They're retreating! They're freakin' retreating!", he screamed and stopped, grinning like madman. Nexø nodded and noted the man's major insignia.

"What do we do then, sir?", he asked, panting heavily.

"We're organizing counter attack. You've got any of your man with you?"

"Give me a moment, sir.", he rose his head and called, "N-Twenty! N-Nineteen! To me!"

Crews of two canyons approached him quickly and he counted them. Twenty seven. He cursed. Somewhere, another three were dead or wounded so hard that they couldn't come. Major nodded.

"Follow me."

They came to square between the tent where people were grouping together, cleaning, rearming, tending to small injuries. There was about two hundred of them in total, although it was hard to be sure in torchlight. Major climbed on some create and people looked at him.

"Alright, how many of you can fight?"

Maybe ten people didn't raise their hands.

"Great! Weasels are moving back to their camp mainly through three canyons, N-Fifteen, S-Seven and Central! We're taking the N! Refresh, rearm and we're moving!"

They all agreed and Nexø turned to his men.

"How are you?"

"Will do, sir.", the closest one said. "We have to leave two guys with the doctors, but apart from that, we're ready to go."

Nexø nodded.

"Right. Take new crossbow bolts and crossbows if you lost them. Small chance we'll catch up with horsemen on foot."

"On ground like this? They'll all be sliding down."

"So will we."

They moved out moments later, armed and ready for payback, in what was a roughly orderly line, shooters first and then swordsmen.

_BOOOM_

Cannon, silent for a long time, fired again, accompanied by another one.

_BOOM_

They fell into N15, wider and shallower than N20, and started to run up. There were bodies under their feet, under the walls, everywhere and ground was slippery with water and blood. Nexø helped one man up and was helped in turn when he nearly fell face-first to the ground. They soon saw the backs of Weasels in the darkness, trying to make their horses go up, abandoned by infantry. Crossbows shot and men screamed, leaving their horses and running. The chase was on and soon they caught up with slowest of Weasels. This time, though, it wasn't fight. It was slaughter.

After a few moments Nexø just pulled back and left his men to do the deed. He himself was staggering from exhaustion.

* * *

_High Table_

General Berg woke up to the watchmen's silent calls. Not of alarm, but simply of reveille. He slowly sat straight, feeling his muscles ache, and patted his horse's neck. In half-melted, slowly freezing snow after the rain the day before it was actually more comfortable to sleep in the saddle than on the ground.

Men moved quickly, eating cold breakfast and preparing themselves to leave. There were no complaints, only aura of alertness. They were about to strike and it was no time for slacking.

Drinking, Berg worried. They still couldn't find one of their scouts, but Weasels didn't attack them at night. Were they waiting for morning? Or maybe they had already destroyed Olafsen's army and were down the Streams, laughing at stupid, weak Arendellans? Or maybe scout simply made a mistake and killed himself? They were in the mountains, after all. Things happened.

No time to worry now, he told himself, putting back the canteen and looking around.

"Ready?", he asked his commanders. They all said yes, so the army moved out. They quickly spread out in fan-like manner and kept silent, then connected in smaller groups, each out of every other's sight. Everybody knew their orders. Berg himself stayed behind a bit. It was not general's job to lead the battles.

It was nearly midday when he saw smokes rising in distance. Weasels' army. Good. He stopped and waited, but stress soon creeped on him. He wanted to come closer, to see the battle, but there was just no way. On flat area like High Table coming any closer would be just asking for beheading with cannonball…

"Oh, screw it.", he said, kicking his horse and coming closer, reserve walking along with him.

He soon heard the screams of surprise and bangs of crossbows and muskets as his men attacked the camp from twenty places at once. Plan was simple - strike, do as much damage as possible in short term, retreat, go somewhere else, repeat. Berg called it "biting" in his head. Screams and shouts and larger columns of smoke as something was set on fire. Then louder bangs and booms and it seemed like the enemy was reacting, but Berg couldn't see anything. What was happening there?!, he asked, furious, rising spyglass to his eyes. I need to get closer! And I can't get closer, because I've got reserve with me… He growled, annoyed. He only saw the silhouettes of men fighting and something burning, but it was smoking heavily and he couldn't see anything. Then part of the men pulled back and another stayed in place, shooting at them. Some fell to the ground. Alright. Now to the next place, and bite again…

It was two hours of long torture as he could only guess by the movement of silhouettes what was going on. Finally he gave a sign to the trumpeter and he sounded retreat. The men returned sometime later, some leading horses without riders, some injured.

"Report.", Berg ordered. Colonel nearest him saluted and said:

"It went quite well, sir. They seem to have been expecting us but were spread rather thinly. We destroyed as much as we could, killed about three hundred's worth of people and set something on fire…"

_BOOOOOM!_

They nearly jumped, hearing the sound. Men turned, looking at Weasels' camp, which had just started to smoke stronger.

"…and I think it was close to their powder supplies.", colonel finished, grinning.

"Great! Good job, everybody!", Berg called so that everybody heard him. "Let's move back and regroup! We'll do a repeat in the evening!"

They cheered and began going back to their camping place. Berg called the camp cook to him.

"Get the men hot meal. No point in hiding from Weasels now."

"Yes sir", the man answered, accompanied by soldiers' cheers.

* * *

_Weselton camp_

Meyers wasn't quite sure why he was standing in the corner of command tent, but he'd much rather be somewhere else. Anywhere else.

"What _the hell _was that?!", asked general Potter, clearly trying to kill the captain with his eyes only. He failed miserably and Meyers noted that captain clenched his fists behind his back.

"Why weren't your man patrolling the area to the north?!", Potter asked again.

When captain spoke, he was surprisingly civil.

"Sir, you have ordered me to focus on Stone Streams and army down there. If I may quote you, you've said that 'there's simply no way for merchies to attack from the north' and that I should 'stop panicking and focus on real threat'. That is exactly what I did."

"I haven't asked you for your opinion!", Potter snapped.

"I'm only giving you facts, sir. I would also like to notice that if not for one of my men, they'd take us completely by surprise."

"Oh, _sure_.", Potter growled and showed him the door. "Out!"

Captain saluted and left. Meyers followed him quickly, not wishing to be the next target of general's fury.

So our command is furious and arguing with each other, he thought, coughing. Great. Just great. He passed the burned-out remains of one powder stock. Soldiers with buckets were still trying to put out small fires. Stink of burn filled the air and Meyers winced, coughing again. Damn merchies.

He noticed the captain murmuring curses under his breath. Finally the man straightened and took a deep breath. He looked at Vincent with a faint smile.

"Don't worry. We've already made contact with general Windsor's scouts. He should be there in three or four days and…", he breathed deeply and lowered his voice.

"And maybe we'll have somebody _calmer_ to lead us." He rose his voice again. "Not to mention soldiers, powder and ammunition."

"That's good, sir.", Vincent answered. "That's really good."


	16. Chapter 16: Fit of rage

_Koenigsberg_

It was a stroke of luck.

Well, not entirely. Michael had made sure that he'd know what was happening before Friedrich did. Money was flowing smoothly and - funniest of all - it wasn't even his private money. Traditionally, King of the Isles paid his family a stipend to cover for their needs. So, as a matter of fact, Friedrich literally paid for betrayal of his own guards. Michael considered this to be delightful irony.

Of course, not everybody could be bought, like this annoying, stiff-necked captain Braun, whose unquestionable loyalty to Friedrich was a mystery Michael stopped trying to understand a while ago. The stroke of luck, then, was that Braun wasn't present when one Valdemar Schwalzmaar entered the guard post claiming that he had information about little Hans' whereabouts. The guard listened to the man and his wife and came to tell Michael about it. He received a nice sum of money (again, from stipend), and Michael thought what to do next.

Of course. He smiled slightly, looking at the guard.

"Tell those Schwalzmaars to wait for a moment and call captain Braun to interrogate them."

"Sir?" Guard seemed confident that information he brought should stay secret, which was stupid assumption to begin with. Michael sighed. He hated clarifying anything.

"I'd much appreciate if you could keep the captain busy for about an hour. Besides, how do you expect him _not to _learn about it sooner or later?"

"Uhm… Of course, prince. Right away."

The man left and Michael stood up from his chair. Somebody had to tell Friedrich about this oh-so-unfortunate development. No need to busy the captain, huh?

He knocked on the door and was let in a moment later. Friedrich was sitting with his daughter by the table, talking with her about something she drew. Annie laughed. He's spoiling her, Michael though with dismay. How would she be supposed to rule the Isles?

She won't, he reassured himself when Friedrich rose his head and looked at Michael with inquiry.

"Something happened?", he asked.

"Yes, you might say so. You may wish to talk about it in private."

Friedrich narrowed his eyes, but nodded and stood up.

"We'll come back to it later, Annie."

She waved them goodbye and they left. On their way to Friedrich's study - the one filled with cheap furniture - the king smiled to Michael.

"She recently got completely crazy about sailing, you know? Wishing to be… wait for it… navy princess."

Michael rose an eyebrow and noticed servants in the corridor next to him.

"Yeah, that's all we're missing, heiress to the throne imagining herself as _pirate princess_.", he said, a bit louder.

"I said 'navy princess'", Friedrich noted, "although I'm still not sure what it's supposed to mean. Give it a rest, Michael, she's ten. Still has time."

No, she doesn't.

They entered Friedrich suite and king showed Michael the chair. Both sat and prince started.

"We know where Hans is."

"Great! Where?"

"Take a wild guess."

"Michael, stop toying and just tell me, would you?"

"Westerguard."

As he expected, Friedrich was not happy about it.

"Westerguard.", he repeated slowly, slightly angry. "How did he get to Westerguard?!"

"Apparently he sneaked out on a merchant ship under false surname."

"Braun put watch in the port to prevent this."

"Apparently it wasn't good enough watch."

Michael didn't mention that Hans escaped before controls were established. Let's let Friedrich jump to his own conclusion. Michael was happy fanning the flames.

"Now, he's at Westerguard, and guess what? It's not like we've learned about it from your courier ships. It was actually the same merchant who took him. It tells something about state of affairs there."

"Maybe.", Friedrich was getting angry, that was sure.

"Yeah… I did learn some things about Westerguard, you see, and it seems we might have a huge problem."

"How so?"

"Weste folk loves Hans. It's seems he's the best that happened to them since the invention of fishing rod and that he's the best ruler they had in ages - for them at least. And they don't like you at all - thanks to Hans' scheming, I presume. He built himself a great powerbase, and it's a powerbase right in the middle of our most profitable trading route. Key point of that route, if I may add. Hans closes it and we're fried fish! Seeing how there seem to be few ships coming from the south recently, I'll make my guess and say he already done that. Nobody told you about it before?"

"Out.", Friedrich uttered through clenched teeth. "Out!"

He hit the table with a fist so strongly that it nearly cracked and Michael jumped to his feet and scrambled out of the room, his dignity be damned. You don't stay in a cage with pissed-off lion.

He closed the door behind him, and took a deep breath, rather feeling than hearing the _thump_ of fist hitting the door. Friedrich's cabinet was sound-proofed well. Michael nodded to himself, looked around and smiled slightly, then turned the key in the lock. He actually felt a bit insulted. He thought he'd have to work Friedrich more before his older brother - ha! Half-brother at most - snaps and starts raging.

He heard footsteps on the outside and put his game face on. A moment later, servant appeared. He looked at Michael and his eyes opened wider.

"Prince…?"

"I'm really sorry.", Michael said. "It seems he didn't take the news well. I'm not sure why - there wasn't anything awful about them. But, well…"

He shrugged.

"The king has a temper, prince.", servant said.

"Yeah, that he does.", Michael winced in dismay and left the door, murmuring to himself so that the servant could hear him. "We're going to be ruined if he'll react like that to every news …"

He left and started to pace the corridor back and forth. Outside, king's rage must had been already heard. Some servants passed and Michael answered they questioning stares casually, carefully playing down the cause of king's rage and making it seem petty at least. Let's make Friedrich look unhinged. Let's…

The princess was walking down the corridor with her notebook. Michael smiled to her pleasantly, feeling sudden rush of joy. Opportunity was too good to miss.

* * *

Friedrich nearly howled in rage, half blind in fury. _The bastard_! Double-faced schemer and traitor! He'll show him. He'll _murder him his bare hands and squish this f brain of his out of his dead damned skull_! He took what was under his hand and smashed it, feeling the momentarily relief at the sound of crack and destruction. Bastard! _Bastard_! He turned, hearing the door open, _how dare they enter?!_, he wanted to destroy…

He heard a scream. Not even the first one. A third or fourth scream. All too familiar scream his nightmares were full of. He looked at the face and froze in shock, unable to do anything.

Scream. It has to be a nightmare, barely-conscious part of him thought. It's a nightmare. It must be.

Annie screamed again, looking at him… In terror… Say something… He couldn't speak, couldn't do anything but watch the huge bruises on her face, bleeding. They had to hurt terribly… Say something… It was me…

She run away from him and Friedrich slumped to the ground, unable to think. It just like in your nightmares, he thought. It must be another one…  
But his mind didn't want to wake up and Friedrich just sat there, his only thought being that he nearly killed his own daughter.

* * *

It was an infinity of hours before he heard a knock on suite's door.

"Go away.", he said simply, not bothering to rise his head.

"Honey, you have to come out of there soon, you know?", he heard his wife's voice.

"No. I'm a king. I can do whatever I damn well wish."

"We both know that's untrue."

He swallowed and looked at the door.

"How is she?" He feared the answer.

"Well, the doctor got a look at her and he says that she'll be fine after a while. She must've inherited endurance from you." Lisa was silent for a moment before adding, "She doesn't want to talk about what happened, though. Or mention you, for that matter."

"It's not like I don't deserve that."

He tried to banish the tears, but they just kept on flowing. He heard a hand hitting the door on the other side.

"Friedrich, what the hell happened?!"

"I don't know! I was in the middle of rage attack and she entered! Why hadn't anybody told her not to?!"

"They did! She must've thought you've finished already. Why didn't you lock the door?!"

"I…! I don't know. I thought I did. I don't remember. But I… I always do…"

"You didn't! She just opened, and you…" Lisa stopped.

"I don't know… I mean, I know what happened, I just…" He swallowed again. "I'm sorry."

"I know."

The two of them were silent for a while and then Lisa said:

"People are talking already."

"I guessed that much."

"I'd say their opinion about you just fell right to the ground and crashed."

Friedrich nodded, although Lisa couldn't see this.

"They were foreseeing something like this for years now.", he noted.

"Not all of them. Only the unhappy margin. But now that they were proven true…"

"They'll be listened to, I know."

He hid his face in his hands and clenched his teeth, trying not to think. To no avail.

"Friedrich, you have to come out of the room."

"I don't _want _to come out of the room." I don't want to see all this… stares. Whispers. He knew they'll be there. And Annie. Annie who didn't want to see him, didn't want to talk about him… He'd rather just stay there, and let the world keep on turning without him. Somebody else go and rule the Isles.

* * *

People were talking.

All around him, Kingsguards' captain Eduard Braun could hear the rumor mill turning. He was out of the uniform, of course - it was afternoon and his plans included having a drink. But that was one of the bad days, days when there was just no way for a Kingsguard to escape his job. So he took a swig of his beer and swallowed it, listening.

There were talks. Unpleasantly many I-told-you-so talks, and even more how-could-he talks. Braun tried to keep his head level, but even he asked himself how the king could do something like this. He… he pushed the thought aside and returned to listening. Old argument was brought up, that Friedrich might not be late king Klaus' son, this time with comment "so sure he's unfit for the throne! Can't you see it now?!". They praised prince Michael, who seemed to had weaseled himself into leading the circus while the king was absent. Dangerously many people agreed with this opinions. Another thought emerged - a new one, countering the previous, although not in a good sense. Everyone knew that Arendelle queen is a witch, right? She did something to prince Hans, after all, and there's this whole eternal winter thing! So… witches were messing with people's heads. What if she did something to the king? And the king wants to keep peace with Arendelle! Must be Witch Queen's influence. Yes, the king is ineligible to rule! On that point both sides agreed. Funny, Braun thought with sour mood, that we, priding ourselves on our disbelief in superstitions, are so ready to believe in them.

But what was the truth? Braun turned the glass in his hands, his bodyguard's mindset kicking in. King's door was opened for some reason. Princess entered the room without asking first, as if she didn't know he was in hot fury. But she _knew_. Servants told her. Then why did she enter? He couldn't ask - Annie didn't want to talk at all.

He took a huge gulp of beer and shut this part of his mind down, then paid and exited the pub just as the conversation between Witch Queen agenda and Bastard Son agenda was reaching its peak. Both sides argued in favor of the king going somewhere and never returning, and that didn't bid well for the future of Kingsguards' commander.

* * *

_The Inner Sea_

This time, under the watchful eye of Stick, Anna ate half of the bowl's content. It was… slightly better than that oatmeal, but still, she refused to eat the rest, citing her "fragile aristocratic stomach". Stick obviously didn't like the explanation, but kept a facade of offended silence, taking the bowl with him outside. Anna stayed alone in the room.

Alright, she told herself, that would be a good moment to do something. She looked at her shackles. She had nothing to open them with - and it wasn't like she knew how to open shackles, either. But they were fixed to the wall - er, hull of the ship, and the hull was made of wood.

She leaned on the hull and tried to rip the shackles out of the wood. To no avail. After three or four times, the only result were aching ankles and hands.

She gave up and stood up, looking at the table Stick and Shorty usually sat by. Nothing that could help her. Well. She braced herself and tried to rip the shackles out of the hull again. And again, nothing.

Hearing footsteps on the stairs, she sat quickly and started to whistle, pretending that nothing was happening. She'd preferred it was Shorty - he seemed nicer - but no such luck: Stick came down, with a long and dirty rag in his hand. What, am I now supposed to clear the deck or what? Will I be unshackled, then?

And then what?

"Shut up.", Stick told her and she whistled for a few more seconds before going silent. "And don't move."

Before she realized what he's doing, he was putting a rag around her head, over her mouth, gagging her. She tried to wrestle and protest, but suddenly there was this giant hunting knife of his under her chin.

"I told you not to move, right?" He seemed angry, but then Stick always seemed angry. She nodded, very careful not to touch the knife.

He gagged her, tied her hands behind her back and went back to the stairs. Before climbing up, he turned and told her:

"And don't you dare moving anywhere!"

Like where, with my legs tied to the hull?, she tried to ask her, but through the gag the only sound was muffled yadda-yadda. He climbed back, leaving her alone again. She wanted to spit. The rag tasted of something disgusting. Maybe Stick cleaned his pots with it.

Why was I gagged?, she asked herself, standing up and trying to see anything upstairs. She could see only a thin line of blue sky, shadowed sometimes as somebody passed by the staircase. Maybe there was some other ship passing by and they needed to be sure her presence won't be known? Maybe if I could scream, they'd hear me…

And what? Before anybody would find her, she'd be already knifed by furious Stick. Not to mention that with a rag in her mouth, she was rather unlikely to be heard by anybody. What she could do, though… She felt the line her hands were tied with by her fingers. She _could_ try unwrapping that.

She heard muffled shouts from the outside and pressed her head to the hull. There was some conversation going on, but she couldn't hear the details. And then…

She jumped away, hearing loud _BOOOM!_, what?! Was somebody firing, why?! Ship shook and Anna was sent to her feet, barely protecting herself with her hands. Stupid knot didn't want to untie and she tried to turn on her back to have more movement space.

_BOOOM! CRACK!_ Ship shook again and Anna heard shouts and screams upstairs. We're under attack, she thought. By good guys, bad guys? She cursed silently and then cheered as the rope on her hands finally loosened. She braced herself…

Just in time for a loud BOOM and deafening crack all around her that sent her to the floor again. Anna took a deep breath and looked behind her. The hull was cambered strangely, as if something tried to punch through it. Cannonball, idiot, don't dramatize. Wood creaked as if in agony. I just hope I'm over the waterline…

Wait. The shackles. She tried to rip them out again… Wood creaked… and again… CRAAACK! and she landed on the floor and suddenly there was water on her. She started to yell in panic when she realized it was just a wave. Blinking, Anna ripped the gag off her face and stood up. Free from the hull, she still had her legs connected to each other, so in short jump-steps she approached the staircase. There were more shouts now, clangs of metal and screams. She looked up, but saw nothing…

And then a body landed on the stairs and slid down. She jumped back, covering her mouth as she noticed half of the man's head being missing. No, she told herself, I'm not going up there. _No way_.

She retreated back into the cabin and started to look for something to defend herself with, hearing sounds of fight up on board. Saltwater was steadily leaking through the breached hull and when Anna reached the table, she was already ankles-deep in it. Oh, please, no. I don't want to drown. I don't want to drown… There was nothing on the table and chair was too heavy and cumbersome. Alright, think… The ship tilted suddenly and she nearly fell to her knees, grabbing the table leg. Alright. How about that?

A moment later she stood with a table leg in the shadow, looking from the entrance to steadily rising water and back. Sounds of fighting upstairs were dying slowly and it seemed like she'd miss the entire fight…

Three loud steps and Stick jumped into the cabin, his huge knife in his hand all covered in blood. He looked at the place she was supposed to be.

"You…!", he screamed, calling her names, and started to turn. Anna tightened her grip on the table leg and prepared to jump out and strike when another man got into the cabin, short sword in his hands. She assessed him quickly. Grey uniform with some insignia. Not a pirate, then, though she didn't recognize which navy he's from. He shouted at Stick, who turned around and prepared to attack…

That was the moment Anna chose. She took a huge swing, stepped out and hit Stick across his head. Navy man jumped, there was an audible _thump!_, and Stick staggered. She hit again and this time he fell to the ground.

"That's for threatening me, jerk.", she said, looking at him, and then rose her head. Grey uniform looked appalled, staring at her - or rather the table leg she held, still ready to swing it if need arose. She tried to ease the mood by smiling politely, but without much success.

"Uhm… are you alright, miss?", the man asked in crude Arendellan and she nearly froze, recognizing the accent.

Hans. Islander. Oh-kay. Alright. They weren't all Hanses, right?

"Yeah. Yep. Sure. Absolutely. I mean - you know, considering that I was kidnapped, gagged with dirty rag, shackled and that I'm now standing on slowly drowning ship - yeah, I'm pretty fine."

He just nodded.

* * *

Anna was led on the board and she swallowed, seeing the navy men disposing of the bodies, walking on all the blood the deck was coated in. Other people were leading captured members of the crew. Anna noticed Shorty, who seemed surprisingly clean and unhurt. Must've surrendered early, she decided. She drew some stares and people started to whisper, some even making jokes at the expense of man who led her, although she didn't know Islander well enough understand them. He didn't seem amused, though.

It took some time before they managed to unshackle her - it seemed like nobody could find the keys. Turned out, though, that there were few sailors with lock-picking experience - nobody questioned that - and so they got to work. Anna, seated on some crate, looked around. The ship didn't seem all that big, compared with merchant vessels that stopped at Arendelle port. It was small, really - especially compared with ship that assaulted it. _That_ was a proper man-of-war. It almost towered over her kidnappers' ship, bristling with guns, flying the flag of the Kingdom of Southern Isles. This kind of man-of-war artists were painting, in suitably dramatic environment. It must be a pain, Anna thought, keeping it clean like that.

Seeing her watching the ship, the man whom she met downstairs said with obvious pride in his voice:

"_Northern Wind_. Won't find a better ship in all the Navy, miss!"

Anna nodded, not sure how to judge goodness of ships. Finally, with her legs free, she was led up the gangplank aboard the huge vessel. The difference was startling. Dear, they _do _must spend hours just making sure it's clean.

"We're introduce you to the captain, miss.", the man said. "We told him we found you. You're some nobility, right?" He looked a bit troubled. "'Cause that's what we told him."

"Don't worry, I am.", Anna said, looking curiously at the ship, guns, huge, now-sailless masts and men tending to them. She did draw stares. I wonder how long has it been since they last saw a woman, she thought with edge of worry.

She was so busy staring that she noticed the captain only after she already reached the bridge, or whatever it was called. He was talking with another man, his face turned away from her. He finished speaking, then turned around. Anna nearly stumbled.

He looked like older Hans.

The captain examined her for a moment before extending his hand and saying, endlessly polite:

"Miss, welcome aboard Royal Navy Ship _Northern Wind_. I'm captain Ferdinand von Schwalbe."

Von Schwalbe… must be one of Hans' brothers, Anna thought. Why, of all ships, I had to be rescued by the one that had one of this cold-hearted scumbag's brothers for a captain?!

Alright, girl, be civil. She shook his hand.

"Thank you, captain. It's pleasure to meet you.", she lied. "I'm Anna, Anna of Arendelle."

Prince Ferdinand froze, eyes wide and behind her, Anna heard mass "oooh…" of other sailors.

""""

_I hated writing first part of this chapter - especially Friedrich's POV. I hope my attitude didn't carry over to you._

_On more story-related note: King Friedrich isn't late king Klaus' son. His mother (Klaus' wife) had an affair, which lasted all the way to her death, accounting partly for Hans' massively numbered siblings. As girls can't inherit in the Isles, the real king should - theoretically - be Michael. However, Klaus stated in his last will that heir to his kingdom is Friedrich. So while "Bastard Son" agenda is well-based in facts, it's incorrect in stating that Friedrich isn't the rightful king.  
That's just if you were curious about very, very minor plot point. ;) _


	17. Chapter 17: Diplomatic espionage

_Weselton_

As the ship made its way into Weselton Bay, everybody on board was growing more and more tense. Despite the huge white-crossed-with-blue-line diplomatic mission banner flying over Arendelle flag and the fact that coastal batteries at the entrance to the bay all but ignored them, there were still many things Weseltonians could do to them, starting with arrest and ending with execution and sending them in bags back just to show the Queen what they think about peace proposition.

Standing on the ship's bow, Kai was looking at the giant cliff that separated the city of Weselton from the castle and royal port. His hand kept on rising to his hip, where his sword should be… and it wasn't. It was an odd feeling, almost like being naked.

He snorted and smiled to himself sourly. Couldn't he find some more _pleasant _things to think about? Sure, it wasn't like there were many of those. For the last five days it took them to reach Weselton, all he could think about was either war (which was scary), all thousand ways in which he could fail his current mission (which was terrifying) or the fact that his father wanted to arrange his marriage with the Queen (which was scary _and _terrifying). All in all, he felt like hiding somewhere and not going out for the next few years.

"Baron Madsen", he heard one of midshipmen's voice behind him, "the captain sends his regards and asks whether we should go to the city port or to the royal port."

And how did I land myself in charge of this expedition?, Kai asked himself, turning around. I'm, like, what? Five years older than this kid? Maybe six?

"Uhm… Tell the captain to go to the royal port. No need to make it all public without the king knowing."

"Of course, your grace." The midshipman bowed and left. Kai turned back to watch the port grow in his eyes, but he wasn't alone for long. Soon, Kristoff stood next to him, looking at the city without much joy.

"So", Kai asked, "what do you think, now that we're here?"

"I still say it's a bad idea.", Kristoff answered grumpily. "And I'd still rather have Sven with me."

"The reindeer? Come on, Kristoff. There's no place here for him and all the food he needs. Besides, how do you imagine it? Coming to a country we're at war with on a reindeer?"

"Oh, so Sven _is _a problem, but those two aren't?", the mountaineer asked, pointing at two 'snow horses', as Anders called them, trotting beside the ship. Every time their hooves touched a wave, it turned into ice, enabling them to virtually walk on water.

"It's called power display. Besides, they don't take up space and don't need to eat."

"They're absolutely creepy."

Kai looked at them and tilted his head.

"No, they're not."

"You're saying that only because you're a hopeless horseman and these are some automatons."

"Maybe. But I do like that they'll never kick me, or throw me off, or trample me, or generally act like jerks towards me…"

"Yeah, yeah, sure." Kristoff just waved his hand. "Anyway, changing the subject: did you think about what to say to this king of Weselton when we actually meet him?"

"Uhm… 'Hello, I'm Kai, that's Kristoff, we'd like to negotiate the peace treaty to end the war between us'?"

"Well, when _I _suggested it, you said it wasn't diplomatic enough!"

"Well, I'll just… dress it into fancy words."

Kristoff glared at him but said nothing.

Soon, the ship passed the cliff end entered the tiny royal bay. His majesty must've been informed of their arrival, because he was waiting on horse by the pier, accompanied by another horseman. Kai resisted the urge to ask for a spyglass to see who the man is. He leaned out a bit.

"That's kind of unfair.", Kristoff noted.

"What is?"

"That they're waiting on horses while we'll get off the ship on foot."

"I think it's on purpose."

"Power display again?"

"Yeah, probably. To make us look and feel like a beggars coming to ask the mighty lord for his blessing." Kai was surprised at the edge of anger in his own voice. But - he was a baron, for Almighty's sake, not some backwards peasant from two centuries before!

Kai frowned and smiled faintly, looking at the snow horses.

"Power display, huh?"

* * *

Sitting atop his horse, Eric looked at the Arendelle ship with mixed feelings. On one hand, it had the diplomacy banner on top of its mast, indicating that they might want to sue for peace. On the other, historically ships flying blue stripe on white field brought official declarations of war as well, and what Arendellans had in mind was nearly impossible to predict, looking at the fierce fights in the High Table.

The plateau had refrozen, giving everybody huge and more-or-less dry maneuver space. One of Arendelle armies had moved to the top of the Stone Streams, putting a tight cork on Weselton's most likely way of advance. Another one - largely understrength one, if reports were to be believed - was running rampant all across the High Table, killing few people there, blowing up this, destroying that and generally making the soldiers miserable. Good thing was that with general Windsor's arrival, general Potter's bled out forces could be relieved to chase after them, although so far, Arendellans in the Table had avoided heads-on battle, instead running away whenever Weseltonians came in musket distance. Surprisingly, they hadn't used the opportunity to get out of the High Table on the west side, which would allow them to raid all Weselton countryside, which just might had indicated that they didn't want it to be war of conquest, which was…

His thoughts stopped when he noticed a ship slowing down and turning a bit.

"And what are they doing?", he asked incredulously.

"Interesting question, isn't it?", his father answered. "What are those white things next to the ship?"

"I don't… what the hell?"

He still couldn't compose himself few minutes later, when two… snow… creatures, each bearing a man on its back, stepped off the water and on the pier. He finally managed to stop goggling when they halted in front of his father and the shorter man bowed a bit awkwardly.

"Good afternoon, your majesty. I'm baron Kai Madsen, and this is prince Kristoff Bjorgman. We'd like to negotiate the peace treaty to end the war between our nations."

His father nodded a tiny bit, still looking at snowy abominations. Almighty in heavens, Eric thought, doing just the same, those are real. This is real. Queen of Arendelle can create things like this.

He almost swallowed, looking at horse-like things and imagining an entire regiment of them advancing on the Weselton bay, preparing to strike the city itself. With entire bay frozen, so that the navy won't be able to react. And… who knows what their queen could do to the guns.

They want to negotiate peace, he thought with a bit of chilly relief. We better agree, because otherwise…

We are so dead.

* * *

"_Prince_ Kristoff?", the mountaineer asked Kai in hushed tone after the diplomatic greetings, as the king and the crown prince were leading them into the castle, glancing at snow horses.

"You are Anna's betrothed.", Kai noted.

"Am I?"

"Let's say so."

They arrived in the courtyard. Servants were obviously freaked out by their steeds, so Kai just told them to 'let them stand somewhere - they don't need anything'. He noticed worry on the face of crown prince, a man few years older than him with round glasses that gave him academic aura. His father, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed by un-living, walking proof of magic. If anything, he appeared more annoyed with the Arendellans.

They entered the castle and sat in tastefully decorated living room that reminded Kai of his family house on Madsen island. They were served drinks and the king started:

"As I understand, her majesty queen Elsa decided to end this war." His tone seemed a bit harsh, Kai noticed with flash of worry. "May I asked why change her mind when it was Arendelle forces that attacked us first?"

Kai allowed himself one blink and looked at the king in inquiry.

"Excuse me, but… I'm afraid Her Majesty… doesn't share your point of view. Weselton army had been aggressively scouting the Stone Streams for days before the first shots were fired - by Weselton forces, I'd like to notice…"

The king didn't seem convinced.

"Then may I ask why was one of your armies camping right at our border?"

Kai felt like swallowing. He didn't let it show, though - his father had a lot to say about keeping a poker face during negotiations.

"We usually chose this area for our summer maneuvers. I would also like to notice that there is quite a distance between the bottom of Stone Streams and the Weselton border.", he said, his voice somehow not shaking. "I am aware that there is a huge possibility of… tensions rising when two armies camp on the border. I cannot, however, understand why, instead of sending a proper diplomatic message explaining your presence in the High Table, your commander decided to attack us, starting the current conflict without so much as a formal declaration of war."

He took a breath, watching the king's reaction. The man still seemed to regard Kai in rather unfriendly way.

"General Potter would not be forced to act if not for an… unfortunate incident between scouts of both nations. While I do agree that presence of both armies at the border can cause tensions such as the one that led to this incident, I believe you'll agree when I say that following the so-called Great Freeze and your queen cutting all diplomatic agreements with Weselton, we were right to feel threatened."

"Perhaps." Kai agreed, feeling a chill going down his spine. "The actions of the Duke were not what one would call… easily forgettable or insignificant, though, and so far, your majesty, we have received no answer from you regarding this, or even any sort of condemnation of Duke for a planned regicide. Our Queen put it clearly in her message that the trade contacts and diplomatic relations would be resumed when the justice was served. No such thing happened."

"Which is way you've decided to start… ah, maneuvering at our border?"

And so it went.

* * *

It was late evening when they went down to check if ship's crew is all right and returned to find out that castle staff arranged for a room for them. Sitting in and eating a long overdue dinner, Kristoff noticed:

"It didn't seem to have gone well."

"Nah… although I'm not sure. I didn't really expect to wrap this all up on our first day here. Besides, they didn't arrest us, kick us out or anything, so…" Kai shrugged.

"Right… Of course, there is this matter that we're now closed in the room that's probably guarded. Not by our people, too."

Kai blinked, uninterested in food, with his chin on the table, drumming on the fine, lacquered wood.

"Yes. Right. But they didn't arrest us _officially_. Anyway, I can guess what the king is doing."

Kristoff swallowed a piece of sandwich before asking:

"Oh? So, what is it?"

"He's trying to stress us out so that when he finally says he agrees for peace, we'll be so happy that we'll agree for his terms without any resistance."

Kristoff nodded.

"Tricky of him."

"Yeah. And he _is _stressing me out." He rubbed his temples and returned to drumming. "We're supposed to deal with all this quickly, Kristoff! Preferably before even more people die or some… overzealous general like… Kristiani", he couldn't say 'Berg', "will decide to go and invade Weselton, or the other way 'round!"

"Alright, calm down." Kristoff bit off another chunk of sandwich and swallowed it before continuing. "You said it yourself - it's not like we could wrap it up on our first day. Maybe try to find some way around the king?"

"Like what?"

"Dunno - talking to his son, maybe? I looked at him when you were having your verbal sparring with the king and… well, he kind of seemed terrified by his father not signing the peace treaty there and then."

Kai raised his head with interest. Yes, perhaps prince Eric could convince his father to stop playing around and just sing the peace treaty. Only…

"How would we get to him? And how can we be sure that his father would listen to him at all?"

Kristoff's enthusiasm seemed to have disappeared.

"Well… I don't know, really."

There's got to be some way, Kai thought. He looked at the window. Then at Kristoff. Then at the window again.

"You know, I actually do have an idea how we can find out about this."

* * *

"This", Kristoff said, crouching on the wide windowsill, "is one of the stupidest ideas I've ever participated in."

"Does this account for your and Anna's chase of the Queen during the Great Freeze?", Kai answered quietly.

Kristoff grunted.

"At least I was in a familiar terrain there."

"Come on, you're a mountaineer! You know how to climb!"

"A mountain. Not a wall."

"With how worn down those stones seem, I'd hazard a guess that this is actually going to be easier than mountain climbing."

Kristoff just snorted, recognizing a situation in which the discussion would be futile. Besides, they _did _need information, and such an exercise in stupidity like this would be a good distraction from more worrying matters, like Anna's absence…

Don't think about it now, he decided, catching a windowsill and slowly looking for a foothold with his right leg. Or would you rather fall four floors and an entire cliff down?

"You need help?", Kai asked.

"Yes. Stop distracting me."

"Uhm, sorry."

Kai disappeared back in their room and Kristoff started to descend slowly, trying not to think about the sea hitting the cliffs many, many feet below. He had to admit - grudgingly, but he had to - that Kai was right in one regard: castle walls, made of huge stone blocks glued together with cement and worn down by two or so hundred years, provided _much _better foot- and handholds than vertical mountain slopes. He quickly made his way two floors down, happy that castle guard hadn't seen it fit to put a watch at the sea-facing side of the royal residence.

He silently thanked old Madsen for providing him with plenty of information about castle layout. He reminded himself once again which windows belonged to royal family's private apartment and descended, simultaneously going a bit to the side.

He climbed down quickly and then listened by three or four windows before finally finding the one behind which voices could be heard. He came as close to the glass as he let himself without being seen and listened.

"…ridiculous, father! Are you actually going to play all these tricks with Arendellans?! Didn't you see how they _arrived _here? It's suicidal!"

"Don't be ridiculous yourself, Eric. If queen Elsa really wanted to beat us, she'd send a winter at us instead of two younglings on those absurd parodies of horses. She's young, Eric, and she held power for barely three months now, not to mention that she ridiculed herself just hours after her coronation! And now this! Instead of crushing us, she wants to negotiate? If she had a nerve to do it, she'd blow away Windsor and Potter from the High Table days ago! She's clearly unsure of herself and we can exploit that to completely renegotiate the trade arrangements!"

Well, buddy, you might be just a _tad _mistaken about Elsa, Kristoff thought, smiling sourly in the shadow. Prince Eric apparently didn't think much about his father's analysis as well.

" 'Trade arrangements'? What 'trade arrangements', father? Did you forget that they don't exist anymore? She basically blown them into oblivion right after uncle Andrew tried to have her murdered!"

"And that gives us opportunity to renegotiate them, Eric."

"And you really believe we're going to end up better off than we were before her coronation?" Eric sounded as doubtful about it as Kristoff felt.

"Of course we are! Can't you see how indecisive she is? First she cuts off all diplomatic contacts, now she wants us to be diplomatic again. First she puts her army right on our border, now she says 'it's not us who started a war, we want to end it!' Please. She changes her mind like one changes shoes!"

There was a moment of silence for a while before Eric said carefully:

"I am actually willing to believe baron Madsen when he says that Arendelle didn't want war."

"Oh, really. Where were you when colonel Hunter briefed us on how they're aggressively pressing _towards _war?"

We were doing _what how_?, Kristoff asked in surprise.

"What if I had some information that Hunter was misleading us?"

"You have any proof of that?"

A moment of silence.

"Not a tangible one."

"That's what I thought. What even made you think that, Eric? Why would our own intelligence chief lie to us about Arendelle's attitudes?"

"Uhm… to start a war?"

"And how exactly does he profit from it?"

Another moment of clearly uncomfortable silence. And then:

"I… am not sure."

"Then stop speaking like real life was some poorly-written spy fiction. So far, I have seen no proof that colonel Hunter is anything else than a dedicated and good spymaster. And that's the end of this discussion for today, Eric!"

"But father…"

"The end, I said!"

After a while, Kristoff heard the sound of closed door. Well, that was interesting. Did the prince really have some proof of what he was saying? And where did this Hunter guy get the idea that Arendelle wants war? And does the king really think Elsa's _weak_? The notion was absurd… but then, on the other hand, not many people seen her firsthand dealing with Duke's thugs, or her actions after the Great Freeze was over. Well, everything's a matter of perspective, huh?

He heard the footsteps approaching the window and moved back up before prince Eric could look out and spot him dangling out of his window. His fingers started to get a bit numb… He climbed a floor higher and started to move to the side. Halfway through, he heard muffled sounds from behind the next window. He leaned closer, recognized them for what they were, and peaked in in surprise.

* * *

In their room, Kai was getting nervous. He left the window open, just in case, and now paced from corner to corner, trying not to look outside. In the darkness of night, he'd have to have hawk's eyes to see Kristoff on the castle wall.

He was still nervous and nearly jumped every time he heard a clash of waves on the stone. He could easily imagine dozens of things that could go wrong, starting with Kristoff losing his grip and falling into faraway, ice cold sea and ending with Kristoff being discovered and dragged for arrest. What would I do then?, he asked himself, turning and going back across the room. How to explain his absence? And what if I get arrested too? Should I resist? Should I let them throw me into prison?

He actually jumped when he heard a sharp knock on the door. Oh Almighty they came to arrest me they found Kristoff and now they'll arrest us all and execute us for spying and we've failed and this war won't be stopped oh Almighty I was such an idiot…

He took a deep breath, putting down his attack of panic. Calm. Appear calm and composed. Nothing's happening. If they asked, Kristoff is… in the toilet or something. Kai jumped to the window and slid the curtains to cover it, then jumped back to the door. He opened and saw a small clerk in tiny round glasses.

"Baron Madsen? I'm Jeremiah Lee. May I enter?"

"Uhm… sure, I guess?" The man's command of Arendellan was near perfect, even accented in the way most Weseltonians never managed. Kai let him in and closed the doors. Lee looked around before saying:

"I'd like to inform you that there are actually three listening holes in the room. Don't worry, though - on three out of four watches it's our people who listen. I would, however, advise you not to talk about delicate matters between midday and four o'clock."

Kai blinked, unsure of what he just heard.

"Excuse me? Listening holes? Our people? What?"

"Oh, yes. I'm sorry, your grace. I thought you were informed about this. I'm one of the people in this castle who work for your father."

"For my father…" Kai frowned, then nodded, sudden understanding flushing over him. His father was Arendelle's Royal Spymaster. He had to have his agents on Weselton court and Jeremiah Lee was one of them.

"Right. I'm sorry, mister Lee. I wasn't given any information regarding this."

"It's not a problem, your grace. That is why I approached you."

So we didn't have to send Kristoff down there after all, Kai thought, sitting down on an armchair. He's going to be so angry about it…

"Feel free to take a sit, mister Lee. Could you please tell me something about the general… atmosphere in the court?"

"Of course." The clerk sat down in another armchair and said:

"I'd say many people are rather… distressed by a current situation. Alongside the war going not exactly as they'd like it to, there's a lingering fear of Her Majesty's… violent answer to Weselton's aggression. Because of this, royal court is divided into those who'd rather Weselton became more active and outright invade Arendelle, and those who'd prefer the army to return to the capital. Sadly, your presence here might be… weakening for the peaceful faction, as the Queen's wrath failed to present itself."

Kai cursed under his breath. Her Majesty preferred not to act too aggressively - but it seemed like it could be the best option.

"I presume the king sides with warlike faction."

"Yes, you are right. The prince, however, seems to be more in favor of peaceful outcome, although he hadn't officially sided with - or even acknowledged the existence of - peace faction. There's also the fact that many of those who'd prefer peace were king's… enemies in previous court conflicts, which makes his majesty unlikely to listen to them. Not to mention that significant part of the court is worried about the tension between the king and his heir."

Nothing like falling right into hornets' nest, Kai thought sourly. On the other hand, at least I know that we should try talking with prince Eric, even though his chances to convince his father seem low.

"That's… interesting news. Is there anything else?"

"Yes, you might say so. Significant part of the court is unsatisfied with how current conflict gave more influence to one colonel Hunter."

Kai's memory quickly revised his father's 'Who's Who In Weselton Court'.

"Royal spymaster?"

"Indeed. It seems like he was the one who informed the king of Arendellan presence on the border and apparently the king believes that it's only because of Hunter's vigilance that Weselton managed to avoid this war to become straight-out conquest by Arendelle."

Right into the hornets' nest…

"Ah… so he's unlikely to admit that we weren't planning any invasion?"

"Definitely, your grace… oh?"

The last word was caused by a rustle of curtains. A moment later, Kristoff emerged from behind them.

"I'm ba… wait, who's that guy?"

"Mister Lee here is father's agent in the castle."

"Oh. Cool. Kristoff. Nice to meet you. Kai, can I have a look at this 'Who's Who' book again? I want to check something."

"Yeah, sure."

Kai passed him the book with sketches and Kristoff flipped through it.

"I knew it", he murmured and raised his head. "Well, people, I'm not sure if you're gonna like that, but… Her grace princess Margaret von Schwalbe, prince Eric's wife, is having an affair with colonel Glenn Hunter, royal spymaster. A serious affair, I'd like to add."

Kai slid down in his armchair, staring at Kristoff in disbelief.

_Riiiight _into the hornets' nest.


	18. Chapter 18: En route

_Unnamed valley_

It was early afternoon and sunlight was shining in through the open entrance to general Olafsen's command tent - or rather pavilion. Two men sat on the folded chairs by the table, whose surface was invisible under all the things that covered it. Majority was taken up by a huge map showing the area of Stone Streams, High Table and their valley (whose lack of name was becoming increasingly annoying). It was full of blue, green and red pins - blue for Arendelle units, green for Weasels' units and red for places where the two made contact. The entire area of Stone Streams looked like a sword slashed it across, leaving long, blood-red cut.

The rest of the table was covered by scout and unit reports, number tables, messages from general Berg, a jug half-full of warm tea and a glass filled with the liquid from the jug.

"So…", started general Kristiani, nursing his own cup in his hands, "they chickened out and left for High Table again?"

"Or perhaps Bjorn's scheme worked.", Olafsen answered, looking at green pins. "On the other hand, he reported them being reinforced. By general Windsor, at that. How did Hakan describe him again?"

"Old Madsen? Something along the line of 'ice-cold, sneaky bastard', I think." Rasmus winced. "Yeah… I can see your point. They didn't really chicken out, did they?"

"Well… Potter could've, judging by what we know of him, especially since his glamorous plan to invade us through the in-betweens failed."

"It might've succeeded if Bjorn hadn't appeared at the right moment."

"I'm not saying that Potter is an idiot." Olafsen chuckled. "Well, he still can be, but if you apply big enough hammer, it doesn't really matter what the size of your brain is."

Kristiani snorted in amusement and refilled his glass. A moment later, though, he became more sober.

"With Windsor and his army, he has an even bigger hammer in his hands.", he noticed, looking at the map. "Why haven't he attacked yet, then?"

"That's what I'm worried about", Jens said, taking a drink. "They _do _scout us aggressively", he added, moving his pointed finger over the line of red pins, "but they don't do anything along the lines of headlong assaults Potter seems to delight in."

"Perhaps they're still busy chasing Bjorn all over the High Table."

"Perhaps. But they must realize that he's almost out of food, ammunition and feed for his horses. Soon he'll have to return here, or he'll be stuck up there completely out of supplies."

Kristiani bit his lip and stood up, laying his elbows on the table and putting his chin on his hands. He examined the map and red pins.

"There seems to be more of them in the 'S' canyons.", he noticed. "Meaning that they'll either strike there the moment Bjorn stops being a problem…"

"…or they'll move to the north.", Jens finished, looking at northern canyons. He scratched his chin and added, "A lot depends on who's actually in charge, really. If it was Potter, I'd guess he really is planning to move against 'S's, in some sort of focused attack. On the other hand, if it's Windsor, my bets would be on 'N's."

"Not necessarily.", Rasmus said, looking more to the north of the map.

"Why?"

Kristiani narrowed his eyes. After a moment, he put a pointed finger on a small, twisty passage labeled as 'Tampani Trail'.

"If we did it, why can't they? Sneakiness isn't just Bjorn's virtue, after all."

* * *

They were pulling them out of Stone Streams. To his own surprise, captain Soren Nexø still couldn't wrap his head around it. After the sloping, narrow, ice-covered stone canyons, hilly and horizontal planes of home valley seemed flat, endless and blindingly white. He wasn't the only person constantly blinking as his division was moving northward, away from the Streams and further into the snow.

The generals had said that it's about time the units that had spent the entire war so far on the front lines were moved to the back, and fresher, more rested units take their place. Nexø could understand that - and was fairly thankful for it, too - but he expected his unit to be moved to the south, where the Weasels were probing their positions. Instead, they were moving north, which was sort of in the opposite direction.

Finally his curiosity got better of him. He kicked his horse - he had a _horse _now, complete redundancy in the Streams - into trot and rode up to his battalion commander, the major who rallied them during the hellish night of in-betweens' attacks. When the man noticed him, Nexø saluted.

"Sir, if I may… Why are we moving north instead of south?"

The major tugged at his mustache with surprised expression.

"Haven't I told you? Oh… Right, I think I didn't. Well." He shrugged. "I can just do it now."

He told him briefly about the Tampani trail and finished with stating:

"So, the generals want us to stay there and block it in case Weasels got adventurous and tried to invade us from here. Well… let them try! We'll see how adventurous they'll feel after that!"

Major grinned and Nexø felt his own lips curl up with something like a smile. He thanked, saluted and rode back to his unit.

"So, high-sir-on-the-horse", one of his unit's lieutenants said jokingly, "what's the plan?"

"Oh, we're going to do pretty much the same we did before.", Nexø answered, shrugging. "Only on a much bigger scale."

"Hell… no variety here.", another man murmured loudly. " 'Go to the army!', they said. 'You'll see _all _the damn world!', they said." He cursed and added,

"Sure, I'm gonna see all the damn stony, icy canyons the world has to offer."

A few people chuckled after that. Nexø, again, found himself hard-pressed for a genuine smile.

* * *

_High Table_

There was a distinct smell of burned things hanging in the air, and the wind blowing from the camp made it even stronger. With it, clouds were slowly drifting north and weatherwatchers claimed that they'll bring snow with them over the next few days. A lot of snow - a snowstorm, some claimed. Vincent Meyers found it hard to judge whether or not that's good. On one hand, it may finally chase the merchie raiders off the High Table. On the other, it was unlikely that the captain would stop sending out scout parties, and Meyers wasn't really looking forward to going out into snowstorm.

I shouldn't look forward to going out there at all, he noted with a sour frown. What am I doing out of the camp, anyway? He coughed. I should've asked for a week off or something, he told himself, patting a back of a mountain horse he was riding on. He was given a horse - a pony, really - mostly to keep up with cavalry regiment he was scouting for today. It wasn't very glamorous animal, especially compared with cavalry mounts, but after those mounts performing miserably in the Streams, nobody snickered at the unimposing pony.

Deep in thoughts, Meyers halted his horse for a moment and looked back. Here the floor of the valley was steadily rising, slowly turning into mountain slopes, giving the scout a magnificent view at the plateau. He could see a cluster of darker, moving spots where the cavalry was riding to find and intercept any merchie units. So far, they didn't have much luck with that. Freakin' merchies seemed to appear, set fire, ride away and then disappear into thin air. Over the past few days Weselton army had become increasingly more proficient in repelling the attacks, but the situation still wasn't what one could call satisfying.

Which is why you're here, he reminded himself, gave his mind a mental kick and rushed the horse to go further. In his white uniform and horse's white coat they looked like a barely visible shadow on the snow.

Sun started to touch the mountaintops when Meyers realized that he recognizes the landscape around him. He slowly got off the horse and looked around, then grinned and air-punched, causing the horse to step back a bit. Vincent patted the animal on its mouth.

"Don't worry, buddy, that's a good news!", he said quietly. "I finally found the path the merchies used to get there!"

In front and a few dozen meters under him, the trail stood open, with only a few soldiers in merchie uniforms keeping guard. They didn't look up and didn't notice Meyers as he mounted up and quickly got off their sight.

* * *

"Here, you say?", the captain asked a few hours later, leaning over the map stretched on the table in his tent. It was past dawn already and the only source of light was a couple of oil lamps put on the corners of the table to keep the map in place. Apart from captain and Meyers, there were three more people, all lieutenants, in the tent.

Meyers coughed and sneezed in his handkerchief.

"Sorry, sir. Yes, it's here." He decidedly put his finger on a specific point of High Table's edge, way into the area that had been scouted only briefly when the army first arrived, as per the orders of general Potter. "They put a watch at the entrance, but - pardon my language, sir - it's a pretty shitty watch. Didn't notice me at all."

The gathered men smiled a bit on this comment. Captain took a quill and put a mark on the map where Meyers had pointed. Then he nodded and looked at his men.

"Alright, people. Gary, send some of your men for a detailed scouting of the area corporal Meyers pointed. I want to know everything in case the generals asked me about this. The rest of you, update your maps. Meyers, with me."

A couple of yessirs later the captain left, followed closely by Meyers, who coughed again, feeling a sneeze coming up. He stopped for a moment, sneezed and run up to the captain, gripping the folded map in his hands stronger.

"Remind me to take you off duty for some time.", the captain said. "I'd rather you were in a good shape when we'll be pushing through this trail."

"Yes, sir. Thank you." Vincent swallowed and added, "If I may ask - where are we going?"

"Command. General Windsor has been looking for a way to attack the Arendellans for the last few days. It's about time we gave it to him."

Easier said than done. When they approached the command tent, they heard shouts from the inside. They were muffled, but voices were recognizable. General Potter and general Windsor. Again?, Meyers thought. You'd think they do nothing but sit there and argue! He sighed and noticed the captain rolling his eyes in exasperation.

Two generals' aides were sitting on the crates in front of the tent's entrance. They seemed to be on much better terms than their superiors, playing cards by the lamplight with extreme boredom on their faces. When they noticed the two scouts approaching, the one with Potter's distinctions stood up.

"Yes, captain?", he asked, still keeping his cards in his hands. "How can I help you?"

"We have some information that might be useful for the generals.", the captain answered, overlooking the breaches of protocol. "You think they'll be… responsive in the next few minutes?"

"Hard to say, sir.", the man answered an turned to his companion, who shrugged and collected the cards.

"If it's serious, we can try, sir.", he said.

"I'd be glad."

It took a while, but after a few minutes the two of them were let in. Vincent felt uncomfortable, like between two rows of cannons ready to shoot at each other. Two generals stood on the opposite sides of huge, paperwork-filled table, eyeing each other unfriendly, with dislike on Potter's face and disdain on Windsor's. The latter was clutching his wine-filled glass so tightly that Meyers was sure poor thing was bound to break into shards and fall any moment now. The former had his hands clenched into fists and pressed into table, with rather destroyed papers visible between the fingers. Meyers glanced at the documents spread on the table. Supply data and quartermaster's reports. Are we in bad shape? He didn't manage to read, because two officers turned to him and he saluted.

"Sirs.", he barked.

"At ease." The order might be near-growled, but general Windsor was certainly trying to be civil. He looked at the captain.

"What is this 'important information' you've brought?"

"Sir, we've found a path the Arendellans have pushed their raiding parties through."

"About damn time.", Potter said, slowly unclenching his fists. Pieces of ripped paper fell from them and he shoved them on the ground. "Where?"

The captain nodded to Vincent, who spread the map over the papers. The captain pointed at the ink dot.

"There, sirs."

They both nodded. General Windsor looked at Meyers, who felt himself uncomfortably out of his depth.

"I presume it's you who found it?", the general asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Then tell me…" He stopped and glanced at general Potter, who replied with a glare. "Tell us… how does it look."

Vincent left a few minutes later, happy to be out of the danger zone and pitying the captain, who would be stuck with two generals for the next hour, if not more. The aides were playing cards again. Vincent sneezed and asked them:

"Mind if I", cough, "join you?"

* * *

_Inner Sea_

Captain-prince Ferdinand had actually lent her his cabin and moved to sleep with his first officer, which made Anna a little bit unnerved. Not because she felt stressed or anything. Simply, if she had her say in that matter, she'd just sleep in some sort of common room. When she had suggested that, though, the prince looked like his eyes were about to fall out by goggling and he had hurried to make his cabin available for her. She wondered if that's how aristocracy around the world would treat her - in all honesty, apart from guests at Elsa's coronation and princess and prince of Corona, she'd never met any foreign nobles, and certainly not on their own turf.

And _Northern Wind _certainly was prince Ferdinand's own turf, wherever the Southern Isles might be. On her first night, Anna hadn't been able to walk two steps without bumping into something that might belong to the prince, despite his valet's visible attempts at cleaning up. She had remembered Kristoff's claims about every man in the world being equally disorderly. Back when he had said it, she had stated that he's just trying to justify the mess he left in his room, but having seen Ferdinand's bedroom, she had decided that there might be a kernel of truth to that.

She had been homesick that night, thinking of Elsa and Kristoff. They must be worried, she had thought, trying not to cry silently into her pillow. Without much success.

While Ferdinand had lent her his night cabin to sleep in, he very much used the day cabin as his working cabinet and next morning Anna had found him sleeping with his head on the desk. He had seemed to be embarrassed by that and made sure it didn't happen again.

The prince generally seemed uneasy in Anna's presence, which is why it was mystifying for her that he had decided to invite her to his weekly dinner with officers. Nevertheless, she had accepted with gratitude. He had been avoiding her and the sailors working hadn't been much willing to talk with an inquiring princess. All in all, Anna had found herself absolutely, painfully, terribly _bored_.

That's why she was currently sitting at the end of a long table, on the opposite side than the prince. He couldn't really sit further than me without leaving the cabin room altogether, she thought, trying not to smile, and chewed a piece of dinner. Technically, it was fish, but prince's valet - who apparently doubled as his personal cook - made it so that it didn't taste like fish at all. Anna hadn't really expected such a cuisine on the ship, but well - _Northern Wind _was commanded by king's brother, after all.

She scanned the people sitting at the table. There were some muffled conversations, but obviously nobody felt really at ease, and it was obviously not a usual situation on such dinners. The prince paid much attention to the food, glancing at her with uneasy look on his face when he thought Anna wasn't watching. The officers were doing their best to pretend that the meal consumed their attention completely, but their eyes reminded Anna of that of people at a tennis match, constantly flowing from one player to another and back - or, in this case, from Anna to prince Ferdinand and back to Anna.

Is something supposed to happen?, she asked in her head. Am I supposed to do, what, shout at him? For being Hans' brother?

In all honesty, there had been a moment when she wanted to - on that night when she cried for home - but in the end, she decided it would be unfair. It wasn't prince Ferdinand's fault and so far, he seemed far removed from Hans -especially in a way he avoided her whenever possible.

Nevertheless, the tension in the room was awful. She looked at one of the officers and smiled politely.

"Would you pass me the salt, please?"

The man fumbled for a moment before giving her the saltshaker. She thanked, salted the fish and put it back, then smiled at the people in the room.

"It's really good. I have to admit, I didn't expect such a meals on a ship."

She expected awkward silence, but to her relief, one of the people answered with a tiny smile of his own.

"Well, seeing what your previous, ah… hosts were eating themselves, I'm not surprised. On the other hand, though, we're just lucky to have _herr _Schneider at our services here. Believe me, princess, on any other ship…"

He grimaced theatrically and a small chuckle circled the cabin. Some of the tension that filled it dissolved and officers, encouraged a bit by this exchange, started to talk more freely. Over the next quarter Anna learned more about navy cuisine that she would believe she could, and a bit more than she would like to. The only sore point was that prince Ferdinand remained silent, carefully avoiding her sight and growing visibly distressed. Anna wasn't really used to people reacting to her like that. Maybe I should tell him that I don't keep Hans' action against Hans' brothers?, she thought. Although perhaps not in public…

When _herr _Schneider and two servants who apparently aided him collected the dishes and proceeded to put small snacks (no chocolate, sadly) and a carefully closed carafe of wine on the table, the conversation grew more muted. More and more stares turned to prince Ferdinand, who hid his face behind a cup of wine. Curious, Anna looked at him as well. His valet poured everybody the wine and retreated, also looking at the prince expectantly. Finally, Ferdinand lowered the cup and took a deep breath, before turning to look Anna straight in the eyes.

"Princess, I… Well, I believe one of us, von Schwalbes, that is, should finally say that to you, because, well, it's a disgrace that it's been over three months and we remained silent, that is, I understand Friedrich, that is the king, I mean His Majesty, had his reasons and that politics stand in his way, because not everybody would be happy about it, it being what I'm about to say, that is… _Verdammt._"

He stopped and laid his head on his hand with an exasperated sigh.

"I'm rambling, am I not?", he asked without raising his head. A silent chuckle escaped somebody's lips.

"Don't worry", Anna said, curious of what the prince was actually trying to get across, "Happens to the best of us."

"Yeah, sure." He raised his head and looked at her again. "What I'm trying to say is… I'd like to apologize for my brother's behavior and for what he did - and tried to do - to you and your sister."

He paused to take a breath and continued.

"His actions are a disgrace to our family and there is no excuse for them, as well as there is no excuse for the rest of us not realizing what he is planning. I… am very much aware that apologizing is the least we can do, but I hope it will not seem…" He took his breath, obviously at loss of words.

Anna just kept on sitting, surprised. So _that_'s why he was so stressed and _that_'s why he invited me to this dinner, she thought. Well… it definitely wasn't something she had expected to happen. Now… what to say?

You had thought about it already, she reminded herself, noticing that all eyes in the room were on her. She tilted her head a bit and smiled to the prince, who reacted to it as if he was suddenly sedated.

"Well, I have to admit", Anna said, "that I didn't really expect this. There's no need for you to apologize, though - I don't keep Hans' action against you or your family and… well, I can hardly call you fools when I've been fooled myself. So… don't worry, captain. It's all fine with me."

The entire room seemed to have sighed silently in relief and prince Ferdinand poured himself wine and raised it with exhausted grimace as if to toast.

* * *

The next midday, Anna came on board still yawning. The skies were clear and the temperature was terrible. It was hot and steamy. Even the wind was warm.

The man at the helm noticed her and raised an eyebrow, but she just shrugged.

"Some people can sleep for long.", she said, hoping that she managed to get her hair under control. The only mirror on the ship was barely the size to observe one's own beard - and she guessed that was its purpose. It wasn't very helpful to somebody who had hair longer than two of three inches.

The helmsman smiled glumly and turned back forward. Anna wiped her forehead, noticing the ship's first officer standing on the helm's edge and looking away from the ship. She followed his line of sight and saw the cliffs of some faraway island. Are those the Southern Isles already? No wonder it's so hot out here!

She narrowed her eyes, noticing a blinking light coming from the cliff, like sunlight's reflection. A repetitive one, although pauses between the blinks varied, as did the lengths of the blinks themselves. The first officer was looking at them, writing something down at his notepad. A while later the blinking stopped. The man closed his notebook and turned, then waved to somebody at the mast and gave some orders in Islander language. Anna observed, curious, as the set of three different flags was pulled up the mast. First officer returned to his observation. A while later two blinks responded from the cliff and he turned and waved his hand. The flags went down and the officer finally noticed Anna.

"Oh. Good afternoon, princess. Didn't expect you here." He waved towards the cliff. "We were receiving a message from semaphore."

"Ah. Alright." So that's what it was. Sunlight-reflection and symbol based communication towers weren't present in Arendelle, but she did know the system. If she recalled correctly, it was Islanders who first created it. "If I may ask, what island is it?"

"Vertauer. It's rather small, so you've probably never heard of it. We're way south of Zisch."

Already south the capital island? How long have I been out of Arendelle?, she asked in her head in surprise. I'm actually already closer to Stormbringing Ocean than home!

"Uhm, will I be nosy if I ask what's the message about?"

"Sure not. Soon everyone will know." He looked into his notebook and raised his head, looking at Anna apologetically.

"I'm sorry, princess, but it seems we can't really get you home soon. We were given a priority assignment from Koenigsberg."

"Oh." Anna felt another pang of homesickness. First officer smiled again.

"Apparently there's some trouble on the Westerguard island. We are to sail there and check if everything's in order."

Anna nodded, wondering where does she know the name from.


	19. Chapter 19: Military concerns

_High Table_

Even though it was snow that weatherwatchers announced, it was _raining_ as the army was making its way through the edge of the plateau. Heavy gray curtains shielded them from scouts' eyes, and only by coming close anyone would be able to see the silhouettes of men and horses. Both people and animals had a mixed feelings about this venture. On one hand, stealth had proven to be their best asset in this short campaign. On the other, the downpour made everything miserable.

General Berg sympathized with his soldiers, fixing his hood so that a bit less water would spray in his face. Without much effect. They were riding upwind and the water was being blown in their faces. If Berg could, he would probably camp for the duration of the rain, preferably on the slopes of the valley, but alas, he couldn't. Supplies were already running short and between ice and water that covered the plateau in turns, horses didn't have much opportunity to graze either. The weather was making more and more of his men sick and ammunition and powder that wasn't soaked and useless was few in number. Fourth Corps needed to return to a friendly camp to heal, rest and resupply and it would be easier to do it now than later, when the ground turned into bog or started to freeze again. Intellectually, both Berg and his men knew that, but that didn't make them any less shivering and miserable in the heavy rain.

Berg was thinking about steaming hot, intense tea he was going to drink with Rasmus and Jens after arriving in their camp when he noticed a single horseman moving in his direction. He straightened a bit and cursed silently when water splashed on his face, then looked at the rider. It was his scout commander. The man saluted, and Berg asked:

"What is it?"

"Sir, forward patrol has noticed somebody moving in the rain. Might be Weasel scout or might be Weasel flank watch."

Berg nodded, hoping that it's the first option, and shielded his eyes with his hand.

"Which direction was he moving in?"

"Towards the Tampani."

This time, the general cursed. If the second option was right and it truly _was _a watchman for a larger piece of Weasel army… things were bound to get messy.

"Find out if there's more of them.", he ordered.

"Doing this already, sir."

"That's good."

* * *

The night was spent on horseback, as nobody felt like getting down on muddy, almost-liquid ground. Horse were having trouble moving forward and grew tired, though, so as the blackness of night gave way to slightly-grayish-but-still-dark dawn, Berg finally decided to dismount the army and give animals and people a rest. He had just finished eating cold, somewhat-dry breakfast when the scout commander rode up again, stopped sufficiently far as to not to spray his superior with mud and jumped off the horse. Having pulled his collar over his face, he saluted and said, his voice a bit muffled:

"Bad news, sir. It's the army. At least a division, ten thousand people or more. I'd guess rather more, but in this rain we still don't have a definite count."

Berg nodded, grim. Decimated by the avalanche that allowed it to break free and march to the border, the Fourth Corps wasn't really as much a corps as it was an oversized division, numbering slightly over fourteen thousand. In other circumstances, Berg would be more than happy to pit this many against ten thousand Weasels, but his men were tired, wet and hungry. He didn't know how much supplies Weasels had after all the burning he'd done, but seeing how their communications with rest of their country were way more efficient than Berg's with his, he supposed they were both better fed and better armed.

He turned to look in the direction of Tampani… and the Weasels. If they were going to push their army through the trail and into the no-name valley, they could probably do to Kristiani and Olafsen what Arendellans attempted to do to them. Only they had more chances to succeed, because there was no general Windsor on Arendelle side who'd come to the rescue. General Simani's First would need four weeks to get to the war theater, and Madsen would need as much just to collect his people from ships and islands, not to mention that the Fifth had never worked as a huge, joint force before.

In all honesty, the only reinforcements Kristiani and Olafsen were likely to get were Berg's thirteen thousand cavalrymen and dragoons and the general feared that this was a force grossly inadequate to the task.

A few minutes later Berg met with all of his commanders, grouped in a circle, all shielding themselves - or trying to, at least - from the falling rain. Scout commander finished sharing the news with everyone and the general said:

"As you can see, it's rather obvious - they're going to march by Tampani and attack Second and Third's flank. I'm afraid…" he took a breath, "that our pickets in the entrance are already gone. Now, the question is, what do we do? How would you estimate your chances of punching through the Weasels and taking the trail back?"

There was a moment of silence before one of them said:

"After three days of rest - a real rest, not what we're doing now, in this drenching downpour - I'd say yes, against ten thousand we could, sir. But right now?" He shook his head. "Even if Weasels have no firing weapons working right now, a few days ago they were still in their comfy, heated tents while we were freezing out here. They _have to_ be in better shape than we are."

Others nodded. Berg couldn't disagree either.

"Any propositions, then?"

"Can't we go over the trail, though the mountains?"

The general looked at scout commander, who, behind the curtain of rain, didn't look very optimistic.

"We might - just might - lead horses over the trail, but there's no way to lead them _down _from there. Or most of us, for that matter. On Arendelle side, it's a twenty-feet-high cliff and my men were using picks and lines to climb on it… Well, we can try it if we're in dire enough straits, but I wouldn't advise it."

"Any other passages to our side?", somebody else asked.

"The Streams, of course, but I doubt the Weasels have pulled all their army out of them. Apart from that, the only passage off the High Table is the Rollison Gate."

"Which leads straight to Weaseltown.", Berg noted, then narrowed his eyes.

"How do you think, would we be able to ride there and find some other path back to Arendelle?"

"If we manage to get rid of the guards they put at the Gate? Sure, there are dozens of passages though the Broken Back."

Another man, Berg's chief intelligence commander, shook his head slowly.

"The slopes beyond the Gate are watched by one of Weasel corps", he said, "and they have a lot of experience chasing bandits through the mountains, not to mention that they'd be supplied and welcomed anywhere they'd stop, while we'd have to fight for everything."

"So unlikely either.", murmured Berg. Somebody else, though, noted:

"If we started to burn their fields and houses, sooner or later they'd have to pull part of their forces out of the Table just to counter us."

Berg clenched his teeth and glared at the man, who cowered a bit.

"We are _not _turning this into war of atrocity. End of the subject. Clear?"

"Yes, sir.", said the man, nodding quickly. Berg glanced at the rest of them.

"Well, sir,", intelligence chief said, "this doesn't give us much in the way of options. Those dire straits of Dreves' might be happening right now."

"We could try to bite and strike at the Tampani army from their rear.", was another proposition.

"It sure as hell won't be as easy as it was on the Table", somebody else answered, "seeing how there'd be only one way for us to come and go."

"We still need to eat something.", the intelligence chief noticed. Berg stroke his beard. An idea sprouted in his head.

"How about raiding what's left by the Streams?", he asked. His men looked at him and he shrugged. "With part of their army gone, there's less of them to defend themselves from us."

Somebody nodded.

"We might even wreck enough havoc in their forces for Second and Third to break through up here."

"Not to mention that we could intercept their supply convoys", another colonel noted. "Windsor brought a lot with him, but soon they'll have to start sending for food. I bet we could take their convoys."

"Provided they won't burn it first so that we won't get it.", intelligence chief said. The colonel looked up at the still-falling rain and thick cover of clouds.

"Good luck with that."

* * *

_Over the Tampani trail_

"Good luck with that.", Vincent Meyers murmured maliciously, looking down from the mountain slope at pathetically small merchie division fortifying the entrance to the trail. "We'll kick you out of here in no time."

"Not so sure, Vince.", said private Bob Jenkins, drinking from his canteen. "You don't need that much men to hold our folks there and merchies will be watching sides of the trail this time."

Meyers looked back at the narrow, rocky passage that brought the two of them here. Trying to go through it with larger forces was a sure recipe for a disaster. So, no attack from the sides. He nodded and looked back down. There were no more than nine thousands merchies down there, setting up cannons and earthworks. The work had to be awful, even though the rain here was just a mere shadow of what was going on further up, but it certainly started to look impressive. Moreover, merchies watched all sides - rear and above included - carefully. Meyers and Jenkins hid behind the rocks and rain and were still careful not to raise their heads too high. Their white uniforms were covered in mud, rendering them slightly less visible, but still - these people certainly considered attack from above to be a possibility.

"Why do they have cannons here?", Jenkins asked quietly. "There's no way for them to shoot further up into the trail than what - a hundred yards? Hundred and fifty?"

"Well, if it'll be grapeshot…"

"Oh. Yes. Right."

Meyers nodded and looked again, surveying the entire place with his spyglass.

"Anything unusual?", he asked, glancing at Jenkins. Private shook his head.

"Nothing. Back to the captain?"

"Yep."

* * *

It took them a better part of four hours to get to the army slumbering slowly down the trail. It was over twenty thousand people - majority of them from general Potter's army, but some were Windsor's as well - on foot and horses, without artillery, but with lots of range weapons. Most of which was, of course, safely tucked away, as there wasn't much a musket could do in the current conditions. The rain was picking up again and everybody looked like they really, really didn't want to be here.

Well, that's true for everybody, isn't it?, Meyers thought, sliding down on the lines the scouts left for each other in the morning. We don't want to be here, freakin' merchies don't want to be here either… At least my cough is mostly gone already.

Of course, he coughed the moment he thought that. He cursed and moved to make space for Jenkins and the two of them approached their captain. The officer stopped, jumped off the horse and listened to their account of what the merchies' situation was, then nodded.

"Looks good, maybe apart from this cannons. We should be able to defeat them, though… have you seen any of their scouts?"

"No, sir", Jenkins said.

"They might be on the other side of the trail", Vincent added. The captain nodded.

"Alright. I'll pass it to the colonel." He jumped on the horse and pointed at Meyers. "And you - doctor. Now."

"Sir? Do I have to?"

"I've seen you coughing again, so don't argue."

"Yes, sir…"

* * *

_Unnamed valley_

Soren Nexø had just sat to his much-misnamed midday tea with major - his name was Gynter Lund - when the runner entered the tent, looking even more soaked and muddy than captain himself. He saluted, panting heavily.

"Sir, there's Weselton army coming down the trail!"

Oh, crap, Nexø thought, putting his cup down on the table. Major narrowed his eyes and nodded.

"Not good. How many?"

"Roughly twenty thousand, sir. Perhaps a bit less. Less than a quarter has horses."

Oh crappy, crappy crap, Nexø added in his head. And there's like what - nine point two thousands of us? That'd be about one-to-two odds. 'Not good' didn't even start to describe it.

"How soon will they be here?", Lund asked, oddly calm.

"With their pace… I'd count it three days, sir. They certainly take their time."

Three days… dear my, we're not even halfway through fortifying our position and there's twenty thousand merchies ready to fall on our heads… Nexø closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He heard Lund saying:

"Go to the colonel - wake him up, if necessary. Tell him what's going on."

"Yes, sir."

There was a rustle of material and Nexø opened his eyes. Messenger was gone. Lund looked at Nexø and - to captain's surprise - grinned.

"I _really _want to see them try to attack us!"

Seriously?

"Sir, well, I'm not so sure about that. Sure, we are fortifying ourselves and the only position better than what we have now would be a full-fledged fort, but still… Twenty thousand."

"They won't be able to put more than sixty in line.", Lund noticed. "Less if it's horsemen. And then there's this little surprise we're preparing…"

Nexø nodded without much zeal. The 'little surprise' was tricky and would be great if it worked out, but after all this rain…

"I'd still much rather there were less of them."

"And who wouldn't?" Major shrugged. "Besides, twenty thousand here means twenty thousand less in the Streams. Maybe the generals could send us something more."

"It will still take at least three days for them to arrive."

"Just in time!"

Nexø nodded hopelessly. Lund seemed to be constantly ready to fight and full of endless optimism, which was potentially suicidal, but seemed to be working so far.

"Still, sir, I'd rather we found some way to… reduce their numbers."

"I bet that's what the colonel will say. So - any ideas?"

Nexø thought for a moment, but his mind seemed empty, with images of the in-betweens' hellish fight creeping up on him. Finally he shook his head, chasing them away.

"Nothing I could come up with right now."

"Really? 'Cause I do have an idea!" The grin became even wider.

Uh-oh.

* * *

Colonel Dahl was a small man who to Nexø's eyes looked constantly sleepy. His brain seemed to have been working just fine, though, when he summed up his understrength division's situation to his commanders, grouped in his mostly-dry, mostly-warm tent.

"…grapeshot might stop them, but if they try a charge, there's no way to fire more than one salvo before they'll be on the guns. Of course, they might try another tactics as well - such as jumping out to fire at us, then hiding back behind the curve - and I'd be glad if their preferred method of approach gave us time for multiple salvos, but it'd be just a matter of time before they realize that they have to get rid of our cannons.

"Thankfully, they have no artillery of their own, so nothing to counter our guns with. But still, there's a lot of them and we're not calling them Weasels for stupidity. Luckily, they probably won't be pushing assault through the mountains. We'd just shoot them like ducks if they tried. So - the Tampani trail."

He pointed at the place slightly beyond the last curve of the trail and looked at Nexø and another captain, Riis.

"How's that surprise of yours going?", he asked.

"We'll have it finished by nightfall.", Riis answered.

"I'm worried about whether it do well, given current conditions", Nexø added, "but right now it's impossible to be sure." He shrugged. "It'll probably work, though. We took a lot of care to waterproof it."

The colonel nodded.

"But we don't know for sure, right?" Nexø and Riis agreed and the man raised his head to his chin, as if he wanted to tug a non-existent beard. "That's not as good as I'd like it to be."

"We're sorry, sir.", said Nexø, "With things like this, and weather being its usual self, we just can't assure you that it won't fail at some point."

"Yes, yes. I'm not accusing you of anything, mind. I'd just like to have more options."

Lund seemed to be just waiting for a statement like this. He leaned forward.

"Sir, may I have a proposition?!"

People in the tent, colonel excluded, exchanged unsure looks. Lund was just… sort of overeager.

"Yes, major?"

* * *

"Well, to be fair, _he _wanted to be the one to go.", lieutenant Hjorth noted as he and Nexø were making their way through the camp. It was just before midnight and the rain turned into cold, annoying drizzle that snuck under the collars and into the boots, but weatherboys predicted that the rain would soon return with full force. They didn't give any tips on how long it was supposed to stay, though.

"Sure, sure he did." Nexø admitted and he wasn't using sarcasm. "It's just that he's a major now, even though he seems to be stuck in cavalry captain's mindset."

"You're probably right, sir. But it's not that bad!"

Nexø looked at Hjorth, rising an eyebrow.

"Oh, really?"

"Well, yes. We'll avoid three days of digging the dirt, carrying the dirt, working on the dirt…"

"Yeah, sure. Instead we'll probably end up playing hide-and-seek with Weasel scouts."

"That's why we'll taking fair share of our own sneakies! Come on, sir, it'll go splendidly!"

"Whoa, you _are_ in a happy mood today, aren't you?"

Hjorth shrugged and looked forward, to the end of the camp, at the stone wall.

"Somebody has to, sir. You've been all gloomy ever since the in-betweens assault."

Nexø fell silent and it was his turn to shrug. What could he be happy about?

They reached the wall. Everybody was waiting for them already - nearly a hundred soldiers and fifty scouts. They weren't going to move out together, of course - they would split up as soon as they climbed up. Not to mention that another one and a half hundred people were on the other side of trail's entrance, and they weren't to make contact. Everybody, save for the scouts, wore a huge backpacks. Apart from food and water rations, there was a lot of… additional equipment here. I just hope none of us smokes, Nexø thought, and it actually made the edges of his mouth go up a bit. He had no idea how the others saw it in the darkness, but they answered with much wider smiles, grins even - if their wolflike expressions could be called like that.

"Alright, people.", he said, looking at all of them. "You know what to do, so I won't be repeating myself. And remember what I said about returning with your backpacks full."

"Two months of latrine duty…", the soldiers chanted in bored voices. Hjorth picked up his backpack and smiled crookedly.

"Don't worry, sir. We'll leave all of them for the Weasels."

"Good man. And now - let's go."

He grabbed a line hanging from the top of the wall, tugged it to see if it's strong enough, and started to climb up.


	20. Chapter 20: To the south

_Koenigsberg_

Michael reveled in power the situation suddenly gave him. In just under a week, he became not just king's reasonable brother, but an actual authority in enormous amount of matters of state. Friedrich seemed to be suffering a nervous breakdown, and Michael made sure that fresh gossip made its way into his ears daily, as well as sustained this gossip. To make things better, princess Annie still refused to talk with people about this important day and still didn't want to see her father. In all honesty, Michael was horrified at how Friedrich mauled her before he came back to his senses, but after initial burst of terror, he couldn't say it was a bad thing - for him, at least. Moreover, the king's policy of keeping peace with Arendelle got compromised along with him, and Michael - who had been talking against it for a long time - got an additional burst of respect from people of Zisch.

The only downside to this situation was that some people, including duchess-consort Lisa, captain Braun and some of his subordinates, still looked at him suspiciously. It was not a matter of much worry to him, though - once the crown was on _his _head, he could simply "retire honorably" the captain, and who would expect the duchess to stay in the castle after such a change on the throne? Michael was actually starting to think - carefully, but still - that he might even accomplish his goal without killing Friedrich, which would be quite elegant, now wouldn't it?

All in all, he felt like whistling as he was walking down the corridor. He didn't of course - to outside eyes, he was loyal brother, serious, filling in for his incapacitated king, bent under the weight of his new responsibilities. He couldn't show his happiness to anybody, least they started to wonder if he actually wanted the position…

"Prince! Prince Michael!", he heard behind him. He turned to see one of the kingsguards he paid.

"Yes… Alwin, was it?"

"Yes, prince." The youth smiled. It was surprising how much goodwill one could get from simple things. "Captain Braun sends his regards and asks if you could come to his office. There is a matter that should be brought to your attention."

Michael felt a bit of surprise that Braun would share the news with him, but it died quickly. However much the man might dislike him, he still had his responsibilities and sharing important data with whoever was in charge was one of them. And everybody knew that it wasn't Friedrich who was in charge right now… or anymore.

"Of course. Lead the way, private."

* * *

"…afraid our problems on Westerguard are bigger than we've thought.", Braun said, showing Michael a couple of reports. The prince took them and looked briefly.

"Long story short?", he asked.

"A few pendulum companies report their ships not arriving in place on time."

"It's the Stormbringing Ocean, so it's not like anybody should be surprised."

"I guess the companies know the risk of crossing the Stormbringer better than we do, so if they decided to inform us about it, it's something different." Kingsguard's tone was slightly snappish, or maybe that was just Michael's imagination. "They also sent a couple of courier ships to Westerguard to check if they made it as far as there."

"And?"

"None of them came back."

Michael clenched his teeth, looking at the reports. Pretty much all that Braun said - no ships or information had come from Westerguard for ten days at least. It was as if a place turned into a maelstrom that sucked everything into it and didn't leave a sign.

"Hans.", he said, cursing again in his head. "It's got to be Hans."

"What I thought. And what I suggested to the king. He seemed to have taken it surprisingly calmly."

Michael raised his head from the papers and looked at Braun sharply.

"You've already talked to the king?"

"Yes, I did." Captain's stare was so neutral it could be called challenging. Come on, it said. Tell me I had no right.

The problem was, he had every right to talk with Friedrich before informing the prince about anything. It was his job to keep the king informed, and officially, his current conversation with Michael was more of a courtesy than responsibility of his.

Still, Michael would prefer that he could present Friedrich with his own version of events. He nodded.

"I'll talk with him as well.", he said and gave the papers back. "Keep me informed if there will be any new information."

"Of course, prince. _Northern Wind _should arrive by tomorrow. Perhaps they'll have some new information."

Or that gung-ho loyalist pain in the ass Ferdinand will get himself killed, Michael thought. Not such a bad outcome, really. He'd be among the ones to protest against Michael taking the throne.

* * *

Friedrich looked as if he aged twenty years over the past week. Michael would swear he saw grey hair. He didn't comment on them, though, as well as he didn't comment on his half-brother's obvious lack of sleep and a bottle of imperial vodka on the table. Judging by its state, though, Friedrich hadn't started drinking yet. Pity.

"So, I guess Braun told you about Westerguard problems?", the king asked, looking up from his glass. He was playing with it absentmindedly, sliding it from one hand to another on the polished table. With every slide, the glass was making awful noise comparable in painfulness with nails on the blackboard. _Shee… Shee… Shee… Shee…_Michael didn't say a thing about it, though, instead sitting by the table.

"Yes, he did. Seems to me like Hans isolated the island."

"Yes, so it seems." Friedrich nodded. _Shee… Shee…_ "It would make sense, really. More than a quarter of our income comes from managing trade with Southernmost Lands. If he cut that off…"

_Shee… Shee… Shee… Shee… _He looked at Michael and something in his eyes forcefully reminded the prince that whatever vices his half-brother might possess, he certainly wasn't stupid when it came to ruling a country. _Shee… Shee…_

"We can't let that happen.", Friedrich said. "If he did take the island, we have to take it back before he consolidates himself on it."

"Ferdinand is on the way."

"With a grand total of one ship." Ferdinand shook his head. "Not enough."

_Shee… Shee…_

"So let's send a squadron. We've got semaphore contact with naval base on Meier. They can be out and on the way in two days."

"So they come to attack and Hans burns the port down, along with what's in it. No, I'd rather avoid it."

_Shee… Shee… _A genius idea sprung to Michael's mind.

"We need somebody high up to defuse the situation.", he said. "Somebody who could talk Hans down, and somebody with enough power and authority for his claims and words to be taken seriously, as the will of the Isles."

The so-called 'will of the Isles' was an old term that referred to king's right to decide what's best for his realm. Michael hoped that the allusion will subconsciously register with Friedrich and give him the right idea.

_Shee… Shee… Shee… Shee… _Michael couldn't stand the sound anymore. He plucked the glass from between Friedrich's hands and hid it behind the bottle. His half-brother blinked, then looked up.

"Sorry. Didn't realize I was doing it." He took a deep breath. "Michael… would you do this for me? Go to Westerguard, I mean?"

That's _not_ what you were supposed to think!, Michael thought furiously, keeping his face civil and a bit surprised. You were supposed to jump at the idea and go there yourself!

"Me? I thought… I thought you'd rather do it. Leave Koenigsberg for a while…"

Friedrich's eyes drifted to the bottle again.

"I wish I could…", he said gloomily. "I can't, though. It's not like I don't trust you, mind. You've been doing excellent job and I'm really, really thankful. It's just that… it would be running away."

"No, why? Everybody would understand that you are needed to solve the problem…"

"In a perfect world, sure. It's not perfect world, though, and majority of people probably wouldn't understand how important it is. They'd call me coward who runs away… And I would be running away, whatever I could say out loud."

He looked up at Michael and the prince noticed his despair. Friedrich wanted to be gone. Anywhere, if only it was far away from Koenigsberg and his daughter. But… Michael knew when he saw a hopeless case. Friedrich was just plain _not _going to abandon what he considered his duty, whatever the circumstances. Father taught him too well.

"Alright", he said. "I'll do this."

Friedrich smiled.

"Thank you."

Michael shrugged, another plan forming in his head. I'll have to talk with my men, he thought. If all goes well, the court will be in tatters when I return and who knows - I might even be made a king by popular acclaim.

Not bad. Definitely not bad.

* * *

Captain Eduard Braun knocked on duchess Lisa's suite and a moment later, "come in" could be heard. He pressed the handle, looked around to see if there are any of Michael's lackeys around, and then entered.

"Your grace." He bowed after closing the door behind him. "You called for me?"

"Good afternoon, captain. Yes, I did, in fact. Take a sit, please."

Braun nodded and shoved himself a chair. The duchess was sitting on a sofa next to the door to princess' rooms, beautiful as always. It was a long-hidden secret of Eduard's that he was absolutely smitten with Lisa von Soor when she first arrived in Koenigsberg to marry the king - but so was everyone else, really. Even after twelve years and bearing a child, she still looked starling, but by now, Braun had gotten used to it. He now looked at the door.

"How is she?", he asked carefully. Duchess smiled sadly.

"Better, I think. She started to draw again, even though she still refuses to see anyone except for the doctor, her handmaiden and me."

"That's… well, that's good.", he said and returned to the duchess. "May I ask why you have summoned me?"

"Of course.", she sat upright, business-like. "Captain, I am inclined to think that prince Michael's involvement in recent events is… more than just passing."

Braun nodded slowly. In all honesty, he suspected that for some time already, although he was careful not to share his thoughts with anyone else. The duchess saw his agreement and continued.

"I guess, really, that he has been up to something for some time already." She winced. "Annaliese was looking like a cat that caught a mouse ever since Hans came back."

Braun was the one to wince this time. While in general people liked prince Michael, his wife was rather on the opposite end of the spectrum, what with her obsessive buying of horribly expensive luxuries and tendency to boss her servants - or anybody in range, really - around.

"You think she knows something?", he asked.

"Surely not all, Michael is not that stupid. Had he told her his entire plan, she'd probably boast about it the next day and state that she was the one to come up with it." Lisa shook her head. "No. It's something Michael has in mind and I have a bad feeling that he had something to do with…"

She looked at the door to Annie's room and her eyes were pure steel.

"If he did…", she growled with clenched teeth, "_I'll personally gut the bastard and hang him from the window by his entrails._"

Braun was taken aback by this statement. What worried him was that he actually could envision the duchess doing just that. He swallowed and she looked back at him. Her smile seemed oddly out of place.

"Sorry, captain. Didn't mean to vent my frustration out at you."

"Uhm… You didn't, your grace. I'm sorry to ask but… I believe that there is purpose for you telling me about your suspicions?"

"Yes, there is indeed." She nodded. "Captain, I want you to… take a closer look at Michael's actions. Investigate, to put it shortly, and find out what is it that he wants."

"The crown, I'd presume."

She waved her hand.

"Yes, that does seem obvious. I'd like to know what is his plan to get it, though."

"Of course, your grace. Ah… I have to notice, thought, that formally, investigation of a member of royal family must be accepted by the king…"

"You'll have it. I'll talk with Friedrich in the evening."

"…and the Judge General."

"That little paper-pusher?" She shook her head. "Ignore him. You'll be pardoned if he tries to arrest you."

Braun nodded slowly.

"Thank you, your grace. I'll do my best."

Going to his own quarters, he started to sort out what to do. Talking with the princess would be invaluable, but she didn't want to talk at all. He suspected few of his men to be working for Michael - although really, right now everyone was working for Michael, whether they wanted or not - but he couldn't really force them to confess and they could deny any accusations. No, he needed something else. A tangible proof.

But where could he find it?

* * *

_Weste-Schleich Channel_

"Well, sir… That doesn't look all too good to my eyes."

Understatement of the week, Anna thought, gripping the rail and looking at the dark gray storm front in the distance. She could already feel the strong wind that preceded it and she swallowed. That's how the storm that sunk ma and dad must have started, she thought. Dark, almost black mass of clouds, and blackness underneath it, sea looking as if it was boiling and the wind…

She turned to look at prince Ferdinand and his first officer. The latter had a spyglass pressed to his eye and seemed slightly worried. The prince, though, appeared to be calmness incarnate, even though she could see his fingers twitching slightly, as if they wanted to grab the rail.

"It's not really unexpected, seeing how we're on the edge of the Stormbringer.", he said. "We're too far from Schleich to get there before it hits, though."

"So, what do we do? Westerguard?"

It didn't seem like such a good idea. First of all, because the last semaphore message indicated that ships that stopped at Westerguard didn't leave. Second, because it was Hans' island and Anna doubted he wasn't connected to point one. And it was _Hans_. That alone should make them not stop at Westerguard.

"Not to the port", Ferdinand answered, "But if we get behind the landmass, we'll be at least partly shielded from the storm."

He turned and scanned his crew.

"Stretch the safety lines. Everybody in the harnesses. Prepare for the storm."

"Yes, sir.", the first officer said and started bellowing orders. Ferdinand looked at Anna and came to her, his fingers twitching again. He _was _nervous.

"Princess, I'd much appreciate if you'd go under the deck.", he said courteously. Even after his dinner apologies, he still distanced himself from her.

Anna shook her head. If the ship was overcome by waves, only those on board had any chance of survival…

"I'd rather stay here.", she answered. He closed his eyes for a moment.

"Princess, I must insist. The ship's deck in the middle of the storm is definitely not the safest place to be in. Not even close. You can be washed off the ship, you can slip and hit your head, safety line can break, mast can fall, sail can pin you to the ground, you might be tangled in loose line and waved around… If something happens and you'll be thrown overboard… Sorry, but there's just no way for us to pick up anybody in the middle of the storm. Sure, water is warmer here than to the north, but you'll die of exhaustion in matter of hours, and ocean storms can take days." He shook his head.  
"Please, princess. Go below the deck. Somebody will give you safety harness and show you how to use it, but I'd rather you didn't have to."

Anna swallowed. Of course, all he said made sense… But what if ship crashed?

Well, Islanders are renowned for their navy, and it's not like _Northern Wind_'s crew haven't seen a storm before… or so I hope, Anna thought, nodding.

"Alright. I'll go down."

"Thank you."

* * *

_Westerguard_

The rain started to rap on the walls and roofs of the keep shortly before evening, just after admiral Hauser entered the place. Seeing how quickly it turned into downpour, he was glad that he managed to postpone his meeting with quartermasters for tomorrow morning. In all honesty, it's not like they were desperate - there was always a plenty of fish around the island and Weste were more than happy to supply the garrison that gave them freedom, and the captured ships, especially pendulums, had more exotic goods aboard. One of them was supposed to be served on this dinner and Klaus Hauser was absolutely curious.

On his way, he passed - and paid honors to - the new flag of the Princedom of Westerguard, a two-headed, two-tailed fish in a yellow circle on blue background. The fish-abomination was apparently some important character in Weste beliefs, although every time Hauser saw it, he couldn't not think that it looked like two herrings that were fused together and now desperately tried to get as far away from each other as possible. On some flags their fishy expressions were hilarious, and they almost littered the island, forcing Hauser to exercise in controlling his face.

Finally he reached the room at the upper levels of the keep - the Prince's Keep, they called it now, although in their language, of course - where Victor Mousac made his quarters. Over the past month Hauser came to like short, stocky major, and it became a habit of them to eat dinner together at least twice a week. He knocked and entered.

"Southerners call it a 'kanga-roo'.", Mousac said, cutting a piece of the meat. With rain banging on the windows and wind howling outside, his voice - never too loud out of combat - was nearly impossible to hear and Hauser had to lean closer.

"Apparently it means 'jumping beast'.", Victor added.

"Really?" Hauser looked at the inoffensive piece of meat on his plate. "I wonder how it looks like in reality."

"I bet they have some pictures." Mousac shrugged and Hauser cut himself a piece of the thing.

"Not bad.", he murmured, chewing.

They didn't manage to finish before the door opened and the man in new uniform - with those terrible fish - jumped in and saluted, then started speaking Weste. Hauser's knowledge of the language was passable, but he understood the general message.

"Sir… admiral… we've got a ship approaching from the north."

"North?", Mousac asked in surprise, putting down his fork and standing up. Hauser followed suit, curious as well. They did capture some of the Islander ships, to the disgruntlement of their crews, but for one of them to come here in the storm?

"North, sir. And it's flying Navy banner."

Oh. Navy. Just great.

Hauser only managed to put a hood on when he jumped out on the battlements on Victor's heels. The gun crews saluted, then quickly returned to hiding under the roofs and observing the incoming vessel. Hauser leaned closer, covering his eyes.

"One of those new _Hornisse_-class frigates", he said, making out the distinctive shape in the rain. "Thirty two guns. It deals well with storms."

"I see. And it doesn't look like it's planning to enter the port.", Mousac noticed, looking through the spyglass. Hauser extended his hand and a moment later he had a better look. _Hornisse _it was, and a well-kept one at that. It wasn't leaning very strongly and it cut through the waves without much effort, as it was supposed to do. Hauser felt a pang of jealousy. Even if he hadn't taken part in Hans' plan, he'd never have a chance to swim one of those.

He couldn't quite see the people on deck, so he started to search for ship's name on the side. The silver paint with which it was painted served well and as it started to climb up on another wave, he could see…

He froze, then boiled inside, jealousy and rage stronger than ever. This… this _bastard_! How dare he show his face to him?! How _dare_ he come here?!

"Klaus?", he heard a voice on his left. "What's wrong?"

He clenched his teeth and growled:

"Kill him. Kill him _dead._"


	21. Chapter 21: Fighting the waves

_North of Westerguard_

Wind and rain hit the ship from the front, and a moment later wave crashed into ship's bow, sending spray and water over the deck, flushing it completely. A moment later sailors on the deck let go of the safety lines, checked if anybody wasn't washed off the ship, and clung stronger, as _Northern Wind_ suddenly leaned forward and fell into the space between two waves. It straightened with a creak of her hull, barely audible in the howling wind, then cut through another wave. This one barely made a splash, compared with the previous. Another one was looming right behind it, though, ready to test the ship's solidity.

Ferdinand von Schwalbe balanced on the helm, one hand on the rail, the harness yanking him with every jerk and tilt of the vessel. In the other he held his spyglass, trying to see the keep. Another violent jerk sent it out of his hands and he was thankful for the short line that connected it to his wrist. He caught it, cleaned the lenses and resumed attempts of seeing anything through the heavy curtains of rain.

"You really think you'll see anything here?!", he heard Gustav screaming in his ear. He put the spyglass down and turned to his first officer.

"Their guns are manned!", he said, shielding his face from icy cold rain, wind and sea spray.

"In the storm?!", Gustav asked incredulously. "Paranoiacs or what?"

"Good question!"

He looked around the ship and, despite its jerks and tilts, felt a burst of pride, seeing how well _Northern Wind _and her crew were doing in the Stormbringer weather. He grinned to Gustav, who replied with a scowl. Both men gripped the rails as the ship slid down another wave, her bow piercing the water and lifting heavily, just in time to be up when another wave arrived.

"Isn't it fun?!", Ferdinand screamed cheerfully. Gustav clenched his teeth and shook his head, mouthing 'madman'. Then he turned and went to the helmsman. Ferdinand followed him, stepping over the safety line, and caught another rail in time for another tug. Rain hit with doubled strength, as if trying to make up for a weaker wave. Ferdinand looked forward.

"I'd rather we didn't go away from the island!", he screamed to Gustav over the wind.

"How do you expect that?! What, are we gonna change the tack in this weather?!"

Ferdinand shook his head, more somber, and caught the rail as the ship dived again. He turned and heard spray hitting his hood, a sound quickly replaced with fresh rain. He looked forward again. So far, Westerguard provided them with reasonable protection from the worst of the storm, but were they to swim straight into the Stormbringer… _Northern Wind _just wasn't cut for it. He started to think about how to best turn the ship in the weather like this when he heard over the wind and rain boots hitting the stairs. He turned to the staircase in surprise and froze in terror.

* * *

Anna couldn't stand it anymore. The ship was flying like crazy, throwing her from one wall to another, wood everywhere around her creaking and creaking as if it was about to break, water crashing loudly into the hull and all that in pitch darkness, because they wanted to avoid ship fire. It felt like her nightmares and finally she had enough. Thrown from wall to wall like a drunk, she managed to reach the staircase and climbed up, then caught the safety line, a thing thick like her thumb, close to the floor, vibrating in her hands. It took her a while to catch it with the snap hook and then close it properly, but finally she managed to do it and stood up, just in time for another tug to thrown her at the wall. She absorbed the hit with her hands, then pushed herself back, holding the doorframe, and looked aboard.

Outside it was nearly impossible to see anything further than three meters through the cover of rain, but she could feel the ship starting to lean forward again. She caught herself strongly and managed to stay on her feet, but the water flushed her and she ended up completely wet and shaking in the cold.

"Princess Anna!", she heard and saw prince Ferdinand, somehow standing straight despite not holding anything. He was seriously freaked out. "What are you doing here?! I told you to stay under the deck!"

"I can't!", she screamed back. "Sorry, I just can'! I'll just stand here, I won't be coming any more outside, I promise!"

He first shook his head, then coughed the rail, as if somehow anticipating the next jerk. Anna decided to do the same, and the ship suddenly leaned back. She gripped the doorframe stronger and looked at the prince again. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then shook his head again.

"But stay here, and don't let go of the…"

He didn't finish. She suddenly heard a loud _THUMP!_ and suddenly there was a hole in reefed sail she could see. The prince turned around and grabbed the rail, then screamed something in Islander.

* * *

"What the hell just happened?!", Ferdinand screamed, looking at the hole. It didn't look storm-made. In fact, it looked distinctly…

_THUMP! CRACK!_ He saw a hole in the wood and…

"They're shooting at us!", Gustav screamed.

"The keep?! The hell why?!"

"As if I knew! What do we do?!"

Ferdinand looked towards the ship, then towards the cannonball that rolled off the deck at just that moment. He heard a splash and saw an explosion of water when another shot hit it.

"We've got to move away from the keep!", he said.

"Into the full storm?!"

"You said it yourself, we're going there anyway!"

_THUMP! CRACK! _Another shot hit the ship. The hull this time. Ferdinand gripped the rail stronger, gaping at it. In this weather, a few more shots like this were a murder for the ship.

"Half sail!", he ordered. "We've got to move faster!"

…or we're dead.

* * *

Anna heard the same cracks and gripped the doorframe stronger. Was it the ship losing against the storm? Or was somebody shooting at them? Are they going to sink? I'm not going down!, she told herself. No way!

She suddenly saw white canvas of sails moving down, spreading. Why didn't they do this…

The ship jerked and creaked as if somebody was going to rip her apart, then started to gain speed, leaning and tilting to the side. Anna had to grab the other side of the door, feeling them going faster and less controllably. Main sail wasn't there, but many others were and the ship was shuddering, trembling, creaking in protest, leaning more to the waves, but going faster, and they were so low, we'll fall, she thought, we'll fall…

Deep breath. They know what they're doing…

_CRACK!_

This time she saw it clearly, a shape flying through the air and hitting the mast, brushing it. The entire thing started to tremble. We're under fire, Anna realized. If this masts falls… oh, dear, it holds like half of the rigging. If it falls, in this weather… She grabbed the doorframe stronger, watching the mast that didn't look all too well. She noticed the prince turning to look at her. He started to say something…

_THUMP!_, something whizzed by and suddenly he wasn't there anymore. _CRACK!_ Anna stared at the place in terror, took a deep breath, inhaling some water with it, then noticed an odd sound, like a whip hitting the wood… She looked down and noticed the safety line flapping in the weather, loose, cut…

_THUMP! CRACK!_ The ship suddenly jerked with full strength, Anna felt the doorframe slipping from her fingers, she hit the deck, I have to grab something…

_THUMP! THUMP! _Another jerk and she was in the air, and suddenly…

She hit the water. She barely managed to take a sharp breath before wave covered her and pushed, she felt a momentary burst of panic, I'm drowning! Get yourself together!, she answered herself and realized that she truly _was _drowning, heavy boots she was given pulling her down. Air escaping her lungs, eyes seeing nothing, she bent and found the shoelaces, then pulled them and tried to kick the boots off. Her head and lungs started to ache, she finally let go of one shoe, then the other, and kicked the water strongly, hoping she's swimming up…

Her head broke the surface and she took half a breath before another wave covered her, pushing her back, somewhere. Anna tried to swim up and again, she managed to get her head over the water for just a moment. She slid down on the wave, taking a breath, and looked around, then closed her eyes again as water covered her. She couldn't see the ship… where am I?

All right, calm, calm, she told herself, frantically swimming upwards. Her eyes itched, her mouth was full of salt, around her there was thunder of waves and thumps of cannonballs hitting the water. She managed to break the surface again and with a _BOOM_ a cannonball hit right next to her, she went underwater again, they're shooting at us, shooting at us, what do I do…

She went to the surface again and managed to make a whole spin around, rain falling in her eyes and mouth, but she saw a faraway lights of the keep and the ship, like a small dark point, moving further and further… Can't go there, they won't have any way to pick me up… She took a breath just in time, started to swim to the surface, broke the surface, looked in direction of the keep again, saw a dark, bulky shadow of the island… I just have to swim there, she told herself, it can't be that far!

After the next wave passed, she started to swim. She was a mediocre swimmer in good circumstances, and those weren't good at all, but something - a will of survival, perhaps - kept her going as if there was no such thing as exhaustion. Up and down, up and down, deep breath, underwater, pushing up, deep breath, up and down, up and down… Rain and thunder of waves raged around her, making her nearly deaf, and she could barely see with her eyes teary from saltwater. Deep breath, water falling into her mouth, she could barely taste it now, darkness and thunder and rain, she was almost sure the shape of the island was growing before her, I have to make it, I can't stop so close, I've got to be close, I have to make it… Deep breath, cough when she drank water, underwater, almost without air, up and up and up, and deep breath and another wave to beat…

I have to make it, I can't stop so close, I have to make it, I can't stop so close, I have to make it, I can't stop so close, I have to make it…

Water, water everywhere, up and down, in all directions, have to push up, have to reach the surface, have to go forward… where is up?

I have to make it, I can't stop so close…

Thunder and crash and thunder and crash of waves and water and all world was water and thunder and crash and salt and growing numbness of arms and legs, I have to make it, I can't stop so close, I have to make it, I can't stop so close, how long yet? Don't ask how close, I am close, I have to make it…

Something broke over the noise, a new thunder, and it seemed more dangerous. She slowed down for a moment, on the slope of the wave, sliding down, looking forward, and her heart sank when she realized what a bad choice she made.

The cliff seemed endless and endlessly tall, and the waves crashed in it in fury as if they wanted to change that. Anything between them and the cliffs would be crashed and destroyed, squashed between water and stone, dead… No, don't think that. There's got to be a way. There's got to be port in here. I just have to swim towards the keep… The wave covered her again and spun wildly and she picked her course, going against the waves, under the waves, she started to kick herself to the surface, air was running out, lungs ached, and ached, and ached… She felt the air and rain, took a deep breath and realized she had swam towards the cliff, she tried to dive and swim alongside it but suddenly a massive force pulled her to it. She tried to fight back but couldn't, the force pulled her stronger, sucking her in, she had so few air, suddenly the sea let go, she swam forward and up, caught a breath, she was spinning, sea was boiling, she didn't know where to swim, the current caught her again and pulled and sucked, she tried to swim away but her legs were giving up, numb, numb, so numb… She couldn't fight it. In a moment she'd crash into the cliff. She curled, hands over her head, legs to her torso, trying to shield herself from the crash, she couldn't breathe, water all around…

Suddenly the thunder changed, grew louder, lower and as if with echo, I'm alive, she straightened, pushing up, grasped for air, it was darkness around, darkness and a circle of light, no rain, only water crashing all around her. I'm in a cave!, she realized, and then the water started retreating, no, I can't swim back out!, she tried to grab the wall but it was slippery and smooth, finally she caught something, held it, water pulled her, then pushed her back in. She let herself be pushed further, looking forward, and froze, noting the light gleaming on the stone wall before her, the water started retreating again, she started to slide back, I can't go out and I can't go in, I have to make it through the storm inside… She couldn't, she knew it. The water pushed her forward again and she extended her hands, the impact pulled the air out of her lungs, she looked to the side, water was drifting to the left, and… was it light? She kicked against the wall and went there, water was still moving wildly, there were stalactites hanging over the boiling surface, she caught one and gripped it tight when the water started to pull back, she couldn't breathe in the waves, the rock broke in her hands, she tried to go back, swim forward, the sea started to return and she was pushed further.

Finally she entered a huge cave and she looked around in surprise, noticing torches on the walls. It was shaped like a bowl, with part that looked like a gallery with an exit and another, much lower floor, in front of it, washed over again and again. In torchlight she noticed the stairs up and then the sea swallowed her again. I have to go to this lower part, she thought, I can climb on the gallery. The waves pushed her again and she started to swim toward the ground, she almost grabbed it, but the sea pulled her. She tried to reach it, she couldn't, she was too weak… The waves stroke again and thrown her on the lower ground, she tried to crawl forward, the sea started to pull her back, no, you won't take me, you won't take me! They hit her in the back again and she let them carry her forward, closer to the stairs, she started to crawl again, so close, so close…

When she reached the steps, she couldn't climb even the first one. Her hands were shaking with exhaustion, her legs barely pushed her forward, the sea swam to and fro, she was too weak… I won't make it, she thought. I went so far… No. No. No! She clenched her teeth and reached the first step, big and wide, with an higher edge that she could catch. She pulled herself up, slowly, slowly… Now another. Behind her she could hear the waves crashing, repetitive thunder drowning all other sounds. She could barely hold the first step with her hand when she extended another to catch the next one. She did it, moved the second hand and pulled up again, shaking from exhaustion and growing cold.

It seemed to be taking forever, much longer than her swim to the cliff. The waves crashed and crashed and crashed, bringing with them a weak wind that made her freeze, the sounds blending together into one loud thunder that took ages. The stairs seemed impossibly steep, if not vertical, and they just didn't want to end. I have to make it, she repeated in her head, I can't stop so close… One hand up. A grip. Second hand up. A grip. Legs pushing against the ground, hands bending, pulling the body up… one leg one the step. Another leg on the step. One hand up. A…

Her fingers caught air. For a moment she just looked for a step without understanding, before she realized that she reached the top. She tried to grab the ground, pushing herself up, she had to make it, she had to… With a faint scream at what was top of her lungs now, she pushed herself with her legs and was finally on the gallery, away from the water.

She was lying there for some time, hearing crush and thunder, feeling cold and exhaustion drowning her, like a tonnes put her back and above all, she wanted to sleep… No, she told herself. I'll die if I stay here to freeze to death… I have to go… She turned and looked for the exit from the gallery. She crawled that way.

Inside there were lamps and warmth and dozens of wooden crates, one of which was open. She didn't know why, but there was something inside, so she crawled in there, curled and closed her eyes.

Darkness swallowed her.

* * *

_The Prince's Keep_

Hans was circling his room, going from corner to corner, stopping sometimes to glare at Hauser. The admiral put on an expressionless face, hoping that Hans' anger was quick to pass. Although, judging by his brother…

Finally Hans stopped at his desk, put his hands on it and drummed with his fingers, looking at Hauser.

"So…", he said. "I believe I can't really keep it against Mousac, seeing how you practically overrode him, but let me just sum it up, alright?"

Hauser nodded, his face a wooden mask.

"Thank you. Let's start with that: twenty cannonballs. You _are _aware we don't have an infinite amount of those?"

He was. As a matter of fact, that was the reason Victor gave when he ordered to cease fire. I have to apologize him, Hauser thought regretfully. He'd rather not lose Weste's friendship, although he feared he just might.

"I can make up for their losses from ships' stockpiles.", he said.

"That would be wonderful, if it wasn't for the fact that navy guns and keep guns fire differently-sized shots. So that's not really an option."

Hauser nodded, concealing his emotions. I was an idiot, he berated himself. But it was this bastard Ferdinand… No, don't think about it, he told himself, feeling familiar rage starting to boil. He didn't manage to hide it entirely, though, because Hans narrowed his eyes.

"Then there's a matter of who you were shooting at.", he said. "Am I right, guessing that it just so happened to be Ferdinand?"

This time Hauser swallowed.

"Yes, your grace."

Hans looked at him for a moment, then sighed, shook his head and sat down.

"Do you imagine how great opportunity it would be if we were to keep him _hostage_?"

Hauser blinked. It didn't even occurred to him then, but… It would make so much sense. Friedrich wouldn't risk his own brother's life, and the navy… ha! The navy sure as hell wouldn't open fire knowing that they might kill their beloved Prince Perfect! He nodded.

"I'm sorry, your grace."

Hans shrugged.

"Well… we'll just have to make what we can with what we've got. I bet we could fool the navy into thinking we've got Ferdinand, at least for some time."

Hauser just nodded and Hans waved him away from the room.

"Get some sleep.", he ordered. "I bet soon you won't have much opportunity for that."

Hauser nodded again, saluted and left. Closing the door behind himself, he felt his knees… shaking? Yes. Throughout the conversation, he expected Hans to explode like the king was said to do, but Hans seemed oddly serene. Hauser shook his head and went in search of Mousac. I have to apologize to him, he reminded himself.

It wasn't until he passed a few corridors that he noticed that Hans wasn't really much upset or sad over his brother's death. As if only the future of Westerguard - the Princedom, really - mattered.

* * *

_Smugglers' Cave_

Anna awoke numb and cold. She tried to stretch and realized she's in some sort of a box. What happened?, she asked herself in surprise, blinking and noticing she's surrounded by furs. What is going on here?

The events of the night returned to her and her eyes widened in terror when she realized what had happened. She was in the foreign land… Hans' land, to make it worse… She didn't know the language, she didn't know what happened to _Northern Wind_, or even if the ship survived the storm and the shooting… What if they were all dead? She swallowed. She came to like them, the officers and the crew alike. To think they were all… the sailor who found her on smugglers' ship, the first officer, the scowling helmsman, the distant prince… to think they were all dead…

Suddenly she heard a loud cry of pain. She froze for a moment, then crawled out of the crate and sat on the ground, salt creaking with her every move, everywhere on her. Somebody wailed again, this time breaking down into sobbing, but the voice wasn't as loud as she thought. In fact, it seemed rather weak, as if the screaming person didn't have much strength left.

Anna stood up and stretched, salt falling off her in tickles, then stepped to the exit, feeling slippery, cold rock under her feet. She entered the gallery and noticed that the sea seemed to had calmed when she was sleeping. The waves were weaker, they didn't hit the bottom of the gallery, and the thunders weren't nearly as loud as she remembered…

There was somebody sitting under the wall of the cave, curled up, in mottled uniform, hiding one hand with another. A still-smoking, but drowned torch lied next to him, rolling with the waves. He wore a familiar uniform.

Anna ran down the stairs and to the man, then crouched next to him.

"Hello!", she said. "Hello…"

The man looked up.

"Prince Ferdinand!", she said, feeling a burst of joy. Somebody survived! Somebody…

She sobered up, noticing his absent eyes and expression of pain.

"Can't do this…", he said to her, although she wasn't sure if he even noticed who she was. He must've, for he was speaking Confederate. "So sorry… _Ich kann nicht… Tut mir leid…_"

"Prince? Ferdinand? What is it?", she asked, not understanding what he was talking about. He swallowed slowly and stretched his legs a bit, then took one hand off another. Anna inhaled sharply.

"_Tut mir leid… Mutti, gehe ich nach dir? Bitte… bitte…_"

There was no hand. His arm ended in the middle of forearm, and the rest was just a ragged, gore stump that still bled. Anna could smell the awful stink of burnt flesh and noticed a black stain on part of the stump. She glanced at the torch in terror. He tried to cauterize it, she realized, he just couldn't finish…

"_Verzeihen sie mir_…", he wailed, and took a sharp breath. He put his head on his knees. "_Ich kann nicht…_" Anna swallowed.

"Shhhh. Shhh…", she told him, putting her hands on his arms, trying not to look at bleeding, stinking stump. "Everything will be alright…" He looked at her again and blinked. A trace of consciousness appeared in his eyes.

"Help me…", he begged. "Please, help me…"

He cried, grabbing his arm. Anna dared to look in its direction. She had to do something… He already lost a lot blood, if she didn't stop it… She didn't have anything that could work as a bandage… She looked at the scarf that held her dress close to her body, but it wouldn't do much, and it was full of salt. She took it off nevertheless, finally making a decision.

She stuff the scarf in Ferdinand's mouth, so that he wouldn't bite his tongue off. His eyes trailed into oblivion again, but he bit it, as if he understood. However, he looked at her with terror as she stood up and reached for the torchlight and when she returned, not wishing to at all, he covered the stump, shaking his head.

"Don't make it harder for me…", she asked him. "You begged me for it yourself. Please, let's do it quickly and have it behind us… Please…"

He stared at her for some time, but finally extended the torn arm, turning his head away. Anna crouched next to him, torch in one hand, and swallowed hard.

How do you even do this?, she asked anybody who'd know, grabbing his arm with free hands. He shuddered, but didn't fight her. Anna almost hoped he would. What if I set him on fire?, she asked herself, looking at the torch. Cold water washed over her feet, as if prompting her to action.

Alright, she told herself with new resolve. Let's do it and have it behind us.

She closed her eyes and with a sharp movement pressed the torch to his arm. _The smell!_ She almost vomited, letting go on his hand and covering her face, she heard Ferdinand's muffled scream, she wanted to vomit, the smell, the stink, the burning flesh and blood, and…

It all took maybe a second. She dropped the torch and doused Ferdinand's arm in the water, then stood up and staggered to the edge of the rock. She fell to her knees and vomited all she had left in her stomach.

Behind her, Ferdinand slumped to the ground, unconscious.


	22. Chapter 22: Tourists in hiding

_Westerguard_

Anna had no idea what time it was. Perhaps somewhere around morning - her stomach surely suggested it to be about time for breakfast, but then, she had swam something like half a mile and then fell asleep, so her biological clock was bound to be slightly off. She wouldn't be surprised, really, if it was midnight outside, but then she wasn't about to swim out to check it. She felt miserable as it was, and most of all, she felt hungry and decided to focus on finding something to eat rather than estimating the day time.

She glanced at Ferdinand, whom she stowed in the crate with furs, but the prince was still unconscious, still clutching the stump of his arm. She looked over the other crates and decided to take a look inside.

I wonder who owes them, she thought, opening the first one. Furs again. Perhaps I'm in the basement of the keep… no, no way. I couldn't have swam that far, not to mention - what would the keep need so many furs for? She closed the crate and approached another one. So, some nobleman's basement? I hope he or she won't mind… She whistled, seeing jewels glittering in the torchlight. Well, that must be heavy…

As she continued to search through the crates, she quickly realized that this isn't _quite_ the nobleman's basement. Crates were unassuming and wooden, even though strengthened, but they held amounts of riches that baron Kjær, Arendelle treasurer, would surely be ecstatic about. When Anna crouched and looked at the descriptions on the crates, she saw a sign in Confederate language: "_Schmitt. Fish and seafood_". She was quite confident that the riches in the crate were definitely neither of those.

Dear, but I _wish_ those were fish, she thought, closing the crate with yet another batch of furs and walking to another. I think, that I've got bigger problem, though, she told herself after seeing yet another crate, this time with odd, golden-clad idols. I'm in a smugglers' den. Great.

Behind her, she heard a loud yawn, closely followed by "_Was zum Teufel…?_" and a much stronger, nearly panicked curse. Anna jumped there and leaned over the crate.

"Hello, prince! I see you woke up."

Buried under the furs, Ferdinand looked up at her with mixture of incredulity and panic slowly going away.

"Oh. Hello." He apparently wanted to sound as unperturbed as she pretended to be. "Where am I?"

"In a crate, in a cave of smugglers, sans smugglers."

"Indeed… And… why am I here?"

"It seems cannonball shot you off the ship. No idea how you survived, really."

"Me neither.", he admitted, trying to stand up. He tried to catch both edges of the crate, but the stump just bumped into the wood. He shrieked and grabbed it, then looked at Anna again. He was visibly shaken.

"What happened to…?"

"I don't know.", she admitted. Personally, she hoped it was because of the cannonball, not some sea predator she herself somehow managed to elude.

"Oh. Uhm… You didn't happen to find… uh… the missing… part?"

Anna shook her head, swallowing as she noticed a piece of burned skin under Ferdinand's fingers.

"No, not really. I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for…"

She wanted to help him stand up, but he just waved her away and did it himself, even though the furs kept on underneath him. Anna smiled sourly.  
"Well, congrats. Now you can just turn back and walk out of the crate." She shown him the missing side of the box. Ferdinand glared at her.

"Oh, really? Thanks for mentioning that earlier…"

He left and looked around, still holding his arm.

"It's full of goods.", Anna said. "But no food."

"Pity. I'd eat something." It was obvious that he wasn't nearly as calm as he pretended to be, but Anna decided not to point that out. He let go of his hand and searched his pockets, trying to reach the right one with his hand before he sighed and realized what he's trying to do. He finally pulled something out.

"Well, I have a bit of dried meat…"

"You just carry it around with you like that?"

"This way I don't have to go under the deck for a snack."

Anna nodded - she wasn't going to complain, after all. They divided the small strip in half with some effort. It was definitely not dry, and so salty the meat was impossible to taste, but at least it filled her mouth.

"I think we should leave soon.", she noticed, trying to wipe the salt off her mouth. All she managed was smearing it. "I don't think the smugglers will like us when they arrive."

"No, not at all.", Ferdinand admitted. "I'll just…"

He tried to reach with what was left of his right hand to his belt. He caught himself at it after a moment and sighed again.

"Great. Just great. I…" He shook his head. "I forgot the sword. I must've left it in my cabin."

Anna nodded, not vocalizing what both of them were probably thinking, that the sword - and the cabin - were most likely on the bottom of the sea right now.

They went under the walls of the cave, but they didn't find any staircase or door. Ferdinand cursed quietly and murmured:

"Of course. They come and go by boat, by the same entrance we did."

"Only we don't have a boat," Anna said, "and I doubt I could swim anywhere in our condition."

"I… Me neither.", he admitted after a moment, looking at his arm. "Perhaps… I don't know. Honestly, I don't think we have any option other than to wait for the smugglers."

"We can always look through all the crates to kill time.", Anna proposed.

* * *

They discovered a variety of perfumes, but nothing edible, so they ended up sitting by the entrance of the gallery and waiting. It took some time, but finally Ferdinand straightened.

"There's a boat coming.", he said. Anna decided to take navy man's word for it and stood up as well. The two of them pressed their backs to the wall and princess looked out. A moment later she hid her head as the bow of a middle-sized rowboat came into view. Then she heard a conversation between two men, but the language seemed odd. She leaned to Ferdinand.

"What are they saying?"

"No idea, they speak Weste.", he answered equally quietly and the two of them fell silent as the boat audibly hit the stone, splashing the water. The two men disembarked, still talking, and Anna could hear in their voices that they were certainly not happy to be here. One seemed to complain to another, who's attitude was clear 'yeah, yeah, me too, stop babbling…' The splashing of the water finished and Anna pressed herself stronger to the wall, wishing that there could be something in the crates she could use as a bludgeon. She held her breath.

The two smugglers entered and immediately noticed the broken crate of furs. They were both at least half a head shorter than Anna, but stocky in built, almost square as a result. They approached the broken crate, exchanging annoyed remarks and not looking back. Anna nudged Ferdinand and quickly moved through the entrance. She waited there under the wall, holding her breath and listening, but the two smugglers kept on conversing, still half-annoyed, half-tired. Ferdinand joined her a moment later and the two of them moved quietly downstairs. The prince wanted to go further, towards the boat tied to some piece of rock, but Anna held him by his arm and shook her head, moving her lips as if to say "splash, splash". _They'd hear us_. Ferdinand stopped and nodded, then looked at the water, at the exit where two smugglers still talked, and finally at Anna, with half questioning, half annoyed look. _Any genius idea?_ Anna shook her head, then raised her hand, put her fingers in shape of walking legs and showed them "sneaking" slowly. _We just have to be silent_. Ferdinand nodded, visibly annoyed. _That's obvious._ She glared at him and he showed her to the water. _Ladies first_. She sighed inaudibly and he did the same, pointed his thumb at the exit, where the smugglers were working on something with the wood and then turned his hand on his wrist a few times. _Hurry up_. She nodded and carefully slid her feet into the water. It was warmer than she remembered.

They walked to the boat slowly, barely rising their feet and barely making waves. Thankfully, whatever noises they might have been making were drowned in sounds of crate being fixed and stream of probably-profanity coming from the smugglers. Finally they approached the boat, much bigger than Anna first thought, and climbed into it, careful not to make noise. It still wavered a bit, colliding with the rock and splashing water, but it seemed the smugglers thought it to be some bigger wave finding its way into the cave.

Anna and Ferdinand sat on two benches in the boat and looked at each other. Ferdinand spread his hands - or tried to, but the gesture was clear. _What now? _Anna mimed rowing and showed the exit from the cave. _Let's get out of here._ Ferdinand started to nod, then shook his head, pointed at the crates' room, then at the cave floor, waited a second, pointed up and scratched his chin. Anna narrowed her eyes before understanding. _If those two stay here, their higher-ups will wonder what happened_. She nodded and shrugged. _So?_ Ferdinand pointed up, then put his hand to the eye as if he held a magnifying glass in it, pointed at himself and Anna. _They'll be looking for us_. He put his hand over his head, cowering, then shook his head again. _We can't hide._ Anna nodded reluctantly and looked around. She noticed a huge piece of fabric in one corner, probably to cover the boat in the rain. She pointed at it and made a gesture of pulling it over her head. _Let's hide under this._ Ferdinand nodded and the two of them went to the stern of the boat and delicately slid under the cover. The prince was turning under it for a while before going silent. It quickly became hot and nigh-impossible to breathe, but Anna wasn't going to complain.

When they left the cave, two men smuggling them out without their knowledge, Anna saw sunlight shining through the tiny spaces between the threads. So was it already daytime, or still daytime? Whichever it was, the temperature grew higher and Anna found herself fondly remembering the coolness of the cave.

For a long time, the only sounds accompanying her were her breath, splashes of water being thrown by the rows and a conversation of two men, apparently happy to be on their way to finish their assignment. It seemed to be taking forever and Anna felt as if she was being cooked. Gradually, the other sounds started to arrive - other ships, sails rustling, screams of seagulls and human voices. We must be entering the port, she thought and wondered what would she and Ferdinand do after their arrival. She presumed they'd have to wait until the darkness fell before trying to leave, but how could anyone miss two people coming out of apparently empty boat? She was considering ways to do this for a while before hearing and feeling the boat hitting the pier. There was something going on for some time and then Anna felt the bottom of the boat going up a bit as the crate was lifted and taken ashore. Two smugglers talked with somebody else for a while before they came out of the boat and their voices blended in with all the activity in the port.

"We wait for the night?", she suggested to Ferdinand in hushed voice.

"Yes", he answered, "and how do we get out then?"

"Are there some sort of ladders leading to the water?"

"Of course. We slid out and climb up?"

"That's my idea."

"Let's do it." He sighed. "And I almost dried my uniform…"

"I suggest you let go of it."

"Why would I?"

"Wouldn't it be…"

She stopped abruptly when she heard a voices closing, speaking clear Confederate.

"You can't do this!", somebody was saying with mainland accent. "I wasn't even going to stop here, I only wanted to wait for the storm to finish! I was going to Schleich!"

"And I don't care in the slightest.", another voice answered with the same accent smugglers had, his voice a clear indication that it wasn't the first time he was having this conversation. "The prince said: no ship that enters the port exits the port."

"But you can't do this to me! I'm not even an Islander…!"

"Neither am I." The man's monotonous way of speaking was obvious. "I don't care in the slightest who you are. Ships that come into port, stay in the port."

"You can't…!"

"Oh, stop repeating yourself!", the man snapped and the two of them stopped. "If you want to protest, protest to the prince. I just want you to know that they have a really big prison there that just so happens to be empty!"

"But…"

"Stop bothering me!"

Quick steps suggested clearly what happened next.

"So", Ferdinand said quietly, "Hans is sequestering the ships."

"What for?"

"So that nobody finds out what's going on, I guess. That's probably also why they opened fire at us."

"Right. That's bad, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I guess the local navy commander is on it as well, so not much chance of sneaking out of the island undetected."

Anna cursed in a way parents and Elsa would probably not approve of, then asked:

"So what do we do? Your king will probably send somebody to reclaim the island, won't he?"

"So I hope. I'm just afraid we'll get caught in the crossfire."

"Oh, great."

This was just getting better and better.

* * *

Finally she felt the temperature lowering to tolerable levels and the port activity grew lower, until finally it was a shadow of its former self. They waited some more time before Anna suggested:

"Let's go?"

"Let's go."

They slowly slid the cover off their faces and looked around. The boat was in the shadow among many similar ones, although most of them bigger, with fishing nets and all that equipment visible. There was somebody walking on the pier once in a while, but not too often. Prince and princess put away the fabric and looked around in surprise.

"I've seen more lively ports.", Ferdinand said after a moment.

"So have I." Anna remembered the ever-busy pier of Arendelle and compared it with absence of anything here. "It looks abandoned. I guess we don't have to go swimming after all."

"Thankfully."

They exited the boat and looked around. Further away, there were two other piers extending into the bay, in which stood a mix of regular merchant galleons and absolutely monstrous ships that looked like humans among trolls. Alright, maybe they weren't as much different in size, but still… Anna noticed men with swords and rifles over their shoulders patrolling the port. Most of them had some foreign uniform and most of them were clearly Weste. It was quite easy to differ them from Islanders and whoever else was there, so she quickly noticed people in uniforms like Ferdinand's.

"I have an idea.", she said, quickly combing her hair with her fingers to look better and leaned on him to cover his stump. "Just go there and pretend I'm some girl from one of the merchant ships."

"What?!"

"Just look around! It won't be out of place in the slightest, and standing there, we just look suspicious."

After a moment Ferdinand nodded and they started a casual stroll down the pier.

"Try not to look as if it was a torture, alright?"

"I can't", he hushed to her. "You're rubbing the salt into the stump."

"At least pretend! You'd think I paid you for accompanying me!"

"Ha! If only I got that much out of it…"

They shut up as they went between the people. Anna noticed with a bit of embarrassment that she caught eyes of more than one men in the port and they clearly congratulated Ferdinand on "catching" her. She never recalled anyone congratulating Kristoff, although back in Arendelle she was the crown princess… She had to work hard to keep her face expression positive as homesickness and Kristoff-sickness grew in her. Ferdinand, on the other hand, got in the role perfectly, although at some moments he came across like some proud owner.

After they went through about one third of the port, Anna relaxed a bit, finally managing to chase away sadness, and started paying more attention to her surroundings. She noticed the flags hanging from every building as if was Independence Day, and heard people talking, in crazy mix of Weste language, Confederate and Islander. She managed to find out that people thought they lived like kings now, that they hated the Islanders and that apparently Hans was a glorious exception from this general rule. She clenched her teeth at the last one, but quickly remembered to act the part. Whoever noticed her, must've thought that she was simply still angry about her ship being "imprisoned" here, because nobody said a word.

"So… where are we going?", Ferdinand asked quietly, leaning towards her after they exited a clutter of soldiers and sailors.

"Somewhere we can get something to eat.", she answered.

"Genius. And what are we going to pay for the food with?"

Anna slid her hand into the pocket of her dress and Ferdinand's eyes widened when he saw a blink of gold and jewels in it.

"I helped myself with the crates in smugglers' cave.", she said.

"Nice… I didn't think about it.", he admitted.

They found a place that advertised itself as having food, beds and fresh water, which made Anna dream about a shower. The woman who ran it had a halting command of Confederate and Islander, but she accepted the golden coin at face value and left them in their room with windows covered, food on the table and only a single, though large bowl of water of moderate temperature. She even blinked to them as she exited the room, as if she expected them to use the bowl together.

"Great…" Anna sighed and showed Ferdinand the wall. He obliged and turned back.

* * *

"I feel… quite uncomfortable about the current situation", she admitted, sitting wrapped in a quilt as Ferdinand washed himself and her dress was drying, draped on the wall as there was no fireplace - a most curious thing, in Anna's eyes. Perhaps that was just because she hadn't bath for a long time, but the bath was wonderful and she'd probably feel a lot more like a human being if not for the fact that she shared the room with Ferdinand and neither of them had spare clothes.

"Me to.", the prince agreed. "You'll have to buy us some new clothes tomorrow."

"Why me?"

"Because one-handed man in navy uniform is not a normal thing." Was it just her imagination, or was his tone absolutely bitter? She blinked, not turning around.

"You can't serve with only one hand, can you?"

"Nope. Cripples aren't allowed in armed forces." He clearly _was _bitter. Not that Anna was surprised. She tried to cheer him up:

"Maybe they'll make an exception for you."

For a moment there was only a splashing of water and then Ferdinand said:

"Let's change the subject, alright? Like… don't know. You've got anybody waiting for you back in Arendelle?"

"Well, there's Elsa… And… Kristoff…" She felt the tears again. She _missed_ him.

"Some fiancée of yours?"

"Not yet."

"Really? Quite unusual for nobility to… you know, date."

"When I wanted to marry somebody without dating first, he ended up trying to kill me."

"Who… oh. Yes, right."

"Let's try not to meet him, alright?"

"Of course."

She heard Ferdinand exiting the water.

"And you?", she asked. "Got somebody back in Koenigsberg, or sailor-style, a girl in every port?"

"Oh, I… well…" He fumbled for a moment. "Well, I don't really… I mean, women aren't exactly my… I prefer mmm… " He trailed off.

"Oh. Okay. I don't mind."

"Ah-ah-I mean, it's not like…"

"I said I don't mind…"

"Ah, alright. If you say so."

It was clearly time to change the subject again.

"What do we do?", she asked.

"Eat and sleep?" Ferdinand was clearly grateful.

"Fine by me, but what do we do tomorrow? How many nights did I pay for, anyway?"

"Three, I think. Tomorrow… you know, you buy the cloths, we stay low profile, preferably not exiting the room."

"Dear, the owner will think us…" She couldn't help but chuckle. Ferdinand followed shortly after.

"Anyway", she continued, more sober, "I don't think we can stay there for too long. In the city, I mean. Sooner or later, somebody will recognize you."

"I'd say it's quite a wonder nobody recognized me when we were pretending to be lovebirds. But you're right. I'd say we spend those three days here, buy ourselves a new clothing and food, then go to the mountains."

"Sounds good to me." Anna agreed.

* * *

_Prince's Keep_

Massoix let the three man in and Hans smiled warmly to Mousac. The artillery commander still looked as if he feared the prince will execute him and Hans considered it vital to keep the image of caring, merciful ruler. Not to mention that he still needed Mousac and any actions against the man would stir up the artillerymen.

His expression turned into one of interest as two other men came in the room behind the major, one a Weste with artillery distinctions, another an Islander in Navy uniform. The former regarded Hans with awe that pleased the prince, the latter just saluted, like all of Hauser's men. Massoix quickly produced additional two chairs and poured the wine.

"I see it's some sort of a bigger case.", Hans noted and two men turned to the major. Massoix nodded.

"Well, yes, your grace. You see, gentlemen here, sergeant Lamasque and lieutenant Spitzer, they've got something I'd consider important."

"Indeed." He looked at the two and smiled warmly. "What is it, then, gentlemen?"

The two exchanged looks and Lamasque started unsurely.

"Well, sir, I mean, your grace, because… I mean, this ship that we were shooting at last night, sss… your grace. The rumor is it had prince Ferdinand aboard…?"

Hans nodded. Rumor mill was generally the only known way for information to move faster than by semaphores, so it was to be expected that the news had spread already. Apparently feeling a bit more sure now that prince agreed with him, Lamasque continued:

"So, your grace, the thing is: today's evening, me and Franz… that is, lieutenant Spitzer… were just walking around the port, killing time as usual, when we noticed this couple going down the pier. A man in navy suit and a girl by his arm, a pretty girl…" He stopped himself short and Spitzer picked up:

"We came a bit closer, your grace, and the two of them smelled impossibly with salt, as if they just exited the water. So I looked closer, and…" He shrugged unsurely. "Sir, I've served in the squadron with prince Ferdinand once and I'd swear it was him."

Hans narrowed his eyes and leaned closer.

"Are you sure?"

To Spitzer's credit, the man didn't even flinch.

"As sure as I could be in this light, sir."

Hans nodded again, leaning back and taking a sip of wine. So… was the man seeing things, or did Ferdinand somehow survive the storm? And who could this girl be? Hans dismissed his first idea as impossible and put the glass back on the desk.

"Alright, it's not impossible, so we'll have to check this. Thank you, gentlemen. Thank you for telling us about it."

They took it as clear indication to leave and the three of them stood up, bowed a bit and exited the room. Hans waved Massoix closer.

"Could you fetch me Dauchere, please?"

"Dauchere the police commander, you grace?", the butler asked in surprise.

"Yes. I believe he'd be the best man for the job."


	23. Chapter 23: The sides of conflict

_Weselton_

"_I'm stuck in a void of hopelessness/A maze, with all exits buried/A labyrinth without end…_"

Kristoff turned from the window and looked at Kai with one eyebrow raised.

"Were you drinking?", he asked cautiously. Kai blinked, looking at him over a glass of wine.

"No, no. It's just a poem I've read once."

"If you say so." Kristoff shrugged and looked out of the window again. The evening fell already, and the royal port bay was empty and quiet, save for watchmen marching along the pier. The lonely Arendelle ship was flanked by two Weselton man-of-war, the fact that, as Kristoff knew, worried the captain deeply. King Charles - or was he prince? It seemed like both terms were being used - assured Arendellans that this was just for their safety, but Kai finally managed to convinced him to send the ships away. Kind of. 'Tomorrow', Charles had said. Ha.

"I just thought it fits our current situation.", Kristoff heard behind himself.

"Really? Are you _that _despaired?"

"I don't know. Perhaps. We don't seem to be moving anywhere at all."

Kristoff nodded, because that much was true. The king continued to be the same annoying jerk he was on their first meeting, apparently going deaf any time Kai started to talk about the current state of affairs being kind of Weselton's fault as well. Prince Eric was impossible to find alone, and any time they tried to leave after the meetings, they were politely informed not to roam in the private wing of the castle, and that the crown prince was - _we're absolutely sorry about that, of course _\- presently occupied. Any time they saw him, he was either with his father or his wife, and Arendellans weren't inclined to trust princess Margaret after Kristoff's discovery. Jeremiah Lee, Kai's father's spy in the court, proposed that he could take the message directly to the prince, but he wasn't really sure if he could manage to do this without outing himself, and none of the "diplomats" was ready to let go of advantage he could give them.

I bet Anna would find some way, Kristoff thought. Perhaps not the most subtle one, but still… He sighed. Was she safe? Elsa must had found her by now… right?

Knock on the door startled both of them and they exchanged looks.

"Lee?", Kristoff asked.

"Who else?"

When Kai opened the door, though, they were surprised to see a figure in round glasses, smiling a bit uncomfortably.

"Prince Eric." Kai said, quickly recovering. "Please, do come in."

"Thank you."

* * *

Eric looked around the Diplomat's Apartment, as palace staff and residents called it. It was awfully cold in here, probably because of the open window. Two Arendellans seemed not to mind, one sitting close to it and another smiling politely, a glass of wine on the table behind him.

Having closed the door, Eric said:

"I've gotten your message… never minding the way it got into my room." He glared at them suspiciously, but both Arendellans looked like innocence personified at the insinuation behind this glare, so he sighed inwardly and let go of the matter. It was Hunter's business, after all, so Eric decided to ask about another thing:

"Did the staff really tell you that I'm constantly busy?"

Both of them nodded and Eric sighed, this time out loud.

"My father, I guess. I definitely didn't tell them to do so."

The closer one, baron Madsen, nodded, apparently more happy. He showed Eric a bottle of wine.

"Something to drink?"

A moment later the three of them sat by the table, wine in their hands, even though prince Kristoff didn't seem all that inclined to drink it.

"As you have already read in the letter", the baron started, "I'm looking for some way to end the conflict peacefully and, most important of all, quickly. The king, however…" He trailed off. Eric smiled sourly.

"Proves to be annoyingly impossible to negotiate with."

He almost chuckled, seeing Madsen's dumbstruck expression.

"I haven't met him _yesterday_, you know."

"Uhm, yes, of course." The baron nodded quickly. "So… well, I believe you understand that I'd much rather the negotiations reached some conclusions before, well…"

"Before Elsa decides she had enough.", the prince chipped in helpfully and from the glare he got from Madsen Eric deduced that they hadn't planned to intimidate him. It was a nice reminder, though, what would happen if the current situation didn't end soon.

"I'm afraid father doesn't see it that way", he admitted, "and while I'm ready to work out some sort of solution with you, I don't think he'll accept it."

"So… what is it that he wants to get from this?", Kristoff asked.

"How to put it…" Well, if they were planning to work together on it, let's be honest. "Entirety of the High Table and the Stone Streams."

"Ah… I'm afraid that's not really acceptable.", the baron said. "No offense meant, of course, but after the current conflict we might be rather distrustful of Weselton, and more so if you happened to take the best defensive position on our border."

Eric nodded.

"Alright, so assuming that, how about…"

Even with lots of goodwill on both sides, it still had to take time. It wasn't just a matter of borders, it was trade, diplomatic arrangements, compensations and a lot of other things. The sun was slowly climbing up as they finally finished the bottle and baron looked at the map.

"Well, at least that would be set", he said, pointing the finger at the line that divided two countries. Weselton would get all the High Table, instead of whatever part of it they had before, Arendellans would keep Stone Streams, and Tampani Trail would be no man's land, perhaps with both entrances frozen or buried to prevent any side from claiming it too easily.

"Yes, so it seems. I'll see if I could convince father to agree to it." Eric smiled sourly. "Don't count on much, though."

Arendellans nodded and Eric felt a burst of relief. At last they seemed to be moving somewhere… Kristoff, however, didn't seem entirely convinced.

"I just thought of it… there might be problems at home.", he said. Baron and Eric looked at him with surprise.

"Why?", the former asked.

"Anna… I mean, princess Anna. She's still missing and I bet some people will be saying that it was Weseltonians who kidnapped her to force something on us."

Princess Anna was missing? What?

"I'm… sure we didn't do anything of the sort."

"Well, you're not idiots." Kristoff noted, visibly cutting himself off before he could add 'apart from your father'. "But that's what people will think."

Eric nodded, realizing that the man was right. The peace would mean nothing if both sides eyed themselves suspiciously for the next years. And if somebody convinced queen Elsa that Weseltonians kidnapped her sister…

"I'll take a look at it", he said and hastily added, "but again - don't expect too much."

"Alright. Thanks."

They've exchanged goodbyes and Eric left. Walking, he wondered if there was any chance somebody from Weselton kidnapped the princess. Not his father, that he was sure of. Hunter? It certainly wasn't below him, but why would he do that? Margaret? What _was _in this letter that she sent from Confederacy? He sighed. I can't do this anymore, he thought, stopping by the door of his suite. I have to talk to her about it…

He entered the bedroom and saw her lying in the bed, breathing calmly. Tomorrow, he told himself, feeling tiredness, or… actually, today. Alright, I'll talk to her…

He just fell on his bed without bothering to change and slept after perhaps a minute. At some point, he half woke up and was sure he heard footsteps, but maybe it was just Margaret or one of the servants… he fell asleep again.

* * *

_Over the Tampani trail_

Soren Nexø looked over the edge of the trail and hid his head immediately, then crawled back to the rest of his team.

"Lookouts", he said quietly. "No sliding back this way."

The three men nodded. By now, they all wore red uniforms of Weselton army under their own white camouflage coats, and had to take care not to show it, as the damn things were visible in current weather like lighthouses at night. The team got them from army's spares. The scout had sneaked into the wagon full of them one night, pretending to be local. It was impossible for him, however, to sneak in with four huge backpacks, which is why the charade was necessary.

"We're running out of time.", one private noted.

"I know, Aleksander. It's just that we can't find the right place, and the Weasels expect us to try something."

Aleksander nodded slowly.

"Alright", Nexø said, "let's try somewhere…"

"Sir!", another soldier, Lars, hushed, "Somebody's coming!"

They froze and Nexø looked cautiously in the direction the man pointed at. A moment later he nodded.

"It's fine. Out scout's back."

They relaxed a bit as the man, probably the oldest and the biggest of the bunch, crawled to them.

"I found something just lovely.", he said, grinning. "Since the army wants to be there as soon as they can, supply wagons moved to the sides of the trail to make way. One of them has some problem with its wheel, so it stopped, and guess what it's carrying."

"Gunpowder?", Nexø guessed, narrowing his eyes.

"Eeeexactly. And because the army won't make way for other wagons to pass, there's at least twenty of them behind it."

"Oh… I like it."

Nexø looked up. The sun hadn't rose over the mountains yet and it was still fairly dark, with everything hidden in deep shadow. The Weasels barely started moving, and the people by the wagons were likely to be annoyed with the delay rather than looking out to see if there's somebody sneaking up on them.

"Lead the way.", he told the scout and the man turned back, then started moving.

A few minutes later they found themselves looking from over the edge at the large wagon. There must had been at least a room's worth of gunpowder in there, enough to blow up part of the wall. And it was so close…

"Alright", he said, once they backed off a bit. "We're not going down. Those backpack are white, let's just slide them down.

"I'm not sure the cords will make it, sir.", private Aleksander said, taking his backpack off. He was their specialist in blowing things up, so Nexø was ready to take his word for it. Fine. So no tricky plan like this.

"Alright, then… Let's join those onlookers down there. You", he pointed at the scout, "cover us."

"Will be done, boss.", the man said, pulling out his crossbow.

Nexø and the rest sneaked to the most shadowed area and slowly slid down the slope, with the scout looking around carefully. They took off their coats and joined a small crowd of onlookers. Lars, the only one of them to speak well with Weselton accent, asked a token questions of what's going on and the like and when the soldiers, laughing at the supply guys (who weren't happy about it in the slightest) were distracted by answering him, Aleksander slid his backpack under the broken wagon. The last member of the team, Rune, walked back a bit and left his by another one, then returned to Nexø.

"Ten minutes, sir", he hushed in his ear. Nexø nodded and waved to Lars to follow him.

"Yeah, yeah, captain will be pissed, sure…" the private made a show of it and then left with Nexø. The two of them started to look around, trying to find some way to leave their backpacks before the ones set by Rune and Aleksander go off. Nexø noticed a supply wagon on the other side of the trail. It seemed to be carrying food. He turned to talk to Lars, but the private was already making his way somewhere else. Great, he'll have to do it himself. He took his backpack off, and, shielding it from onlookers, lighted up the long cord. Great, now I have a bomb on my back, he thought, putting it back on. Alright, let's do it.

He cut through the stream of soldiers, apologizing with the closest thing to Weasels' accent he could do. It sounded as if he had a severe case of cold, but nobody seemed suspicious. He finally reached the wagon, looked around and, seeing no officer, smiled to the driver.

"Hey, I bet you've got some free space there, don't you?", he asked, still with the 'I've got cold' accent. The driver eyed him.

"Perhaps I do…"

Feeling the pressure of slowly burning cord, Nexø smiled and searched the pockets of his coat.

"That doesn't look standard issue coat.", the driver noticed and Nexø felt his heart freeze for a moment. Time, time, you're running out of time…

"It's much warmer", he said. "But don't tell the captain anything."

He finally managed to find to silvers. Driver tilted his head, then extended his hand.

"Sure thing. Give it here."

Nexø masked his relief and tried to keep calm pace as he left the wagon. A moment later, he found Lars and Aleksander, both of which were busy finding themselves as far from their bombs as possible.

"Where's Rune?"

"Already up." Aleksander answered. "I didn't manage in time, some officer arrived and started shouting at us."

"Good. How much time left?"

"Should be about five min…"

_BOOM!_

The three of them jumped and turned around. Nexø almost got heart attack when he realized it was his backpack. The explosion ripped the wagon open, left almost nothing of the driver, set what was left on fire and pierced everybody close to it with long pieces of wood. A moment of ringing silence and then Nexø heard the screams of the wounded and shouts of shock from everywhere around. The three Arendellans looked at each other and seeing the well, hidden satisfaction in privates' eyes, Nexø had to fight to keep his own terror from showing. Not that he cared about damn Weasels. Even though the screams were horrifying, he had ran out of goodwill a long time ago. It was a burst of fear of his own life. It must've been broken, he thought, it could've exploded on my back…

He glanced at what little was left of the driver and swallowed.

* * *

It the chaos that ensued, they managed to sneak out undetected, with everybody else focused on the explosion. Rune and the scout helped them up and Nexø turned and looked down, at people scuttling, looking around, screaming and trying to help their wounded comrades.

"Sir, we might have a problem.", Lars said and pointed with his chin at the wagon they rigged first. Somebody was looking under it, and Nexø heard a curious shout as the backpack was pulled out.

"Ah, damn it.", Aleksander said, more disappointed than worried.

"It might still work…", Nexø answered him, then blinked as he noticed another person, a short man with a beard. His uniform and horse just screamed 'I'm important!'. The soldier who found the backpack turned to him and shown it to the officer.

"And who would that man be…?", Nexø started to ask and…

_BOOM!_

Yet another explosion sent everyone down there on their feet, followed closely by…

_BOOOOM!_

…as the powder exploded.

Thick cloud of smoke enveloped everything and Nexø smiled grimly, high-fiving Aleksander. The explosions specialist grinned.

"Absolutely lovely!"

"Just wait for it…" Rune smiled as well, despite the screams of pain and shock.

_BOOM!  
__BOOOOM! THUMP!_

"What was that?"

"Cannonballs, sir."

"Nice! Lars?"

"Musket ammuni…"

_BOOOOOM!_

And countless _pat-pat-pat_ as the ammunition flew in all directions like a giant grapeshot.

"Good job, people!", Nexø said and the four of them looked of a moment before moving back. Aleksander stopped after a meter or two.

"Sir, I think I hear another explosions."

Nexø smiled.

"Must be other teams. Good to know they're working as well."

It took some time before they were sure they couldn't be seen, but finally they stood up and started going back to Arendelle line. Nexø trotted up to the scout.

"Any idea who was this higher-up we've bagged?", he asked.

"I have my suspicions, boss, although it might be just wishful thinking on my part."

"Still, tell me."

"I'd say the man was general Potter."

Nexø blinked, then smiled. Whoa.

* * *

_Tampani trail_

When Vincent Meyers returned from his patrol, he found a disaster. There was smoke everywhere, people were running, others were screaming, smell of powder filled the air and some wagons looked as if they blew up. What happened?

He finally managed to find Jenkins and ask him.

"Merchies sneaked up on us", Bob answered, trying to clean ash off his face. "They laid the bombs."

"And nobody noticed them?"

"No… general's furious."

"Which one?"

"Windsor… we can't find general Potter anywhere."

Oh dear. Meyers took a sip from his canteen and shared it with Jenkins, who drank greedily. Vincent looked around. Damn merchies. Tricky as usual… They must've killed like three hundred people, if not more.

"Six hundred dead!", general Windsor said, looking at the captain. Meyers had a bad luck of being close when the conversation started. "How could you people miss something like this?!"

"The same way Arendellans miss us when we're sneaking up on them." The captain's face looked unperturbed, although he was gripping his sword strong enough for his knuckles to turn white. "Only we didn't think about explosives."

He took a breath, then added:

"And we _did _catch some of them. Sadly, none was taken alive."

The general snorted and shook his head, then clenched his teeth and took a deep breath. Vincent had to give him this, he at least tried not to explode. It seemed he might even talk calmly with the captain, when some soldier approached. The youth saluted, visibly shaken.

"Ssssir, we… I mean… general Potter is… dead, sir. His remains…"

General Potter was dead? Damn you, merchies. You're way too lucky!

Windsor closed his eyes and nodded, then dismissed the soldier with a wave of hand.

"I see… Well, it seems like I became the only leader of this army…"

Vincent noticed with a bit of dark humor that on general's face shock and terror seemed to combat a slight relief. Windsor nodded again and sat down.

"Alright. Merchies had their turn. Time for payback."


	24. Chapter 24: Kill it with fire

_Entrance to the Tampani trail; "Point Tampani"_

"It's good you're back", said colonel Dahl as Nexø saluted upon entering the tent. "The scouts told me you've killed a whole lot of bastards. Good job."

"Thank you, sir.", captain answered, gratefully taking the cup of steaming tea from the hands of Dahl's aide.

"What's the state of your forces?", the colonel asked.

"Well, sir…" He swallowed, looking into the cup. "I know two teams didn't make it, and other teams lost twenty seven people in total. Also, three teams still haven't returned."

And were unlikely to do so, Nexø thought, but I figure one should have hope… Pff. He felt himself shaking a bit, adding it all up. Fifty two people in total. Another fifty two dead, dead whom he should have protected, to whom he _promised…_

"Captain."

He looked up. Dahl's face was the usual image of sleepiness, although his eyes were wary.

"I believe you are exhausted. You and your people managed to slow Weasels enough to grant us at least one more day. I suggest you take some sleep before they arrive. You certainly need it."

Nexø nodded quickly.

"Of course. Thank you, sir."

Dahl nodded.

"You can keep the cup for now. Just keep it away from Lund, he broke two already."

Nexø smiled dutifully, saluted and exited the tent.

* * *

_High Table_

A convoy was making its way through the half-frozen landscape, a few dozen wagons of weaponry, ammunition, and, above all, food. On the huge plateau, it looked more than a little lost, and the commander of cavalry screen that was tasked to protected knew perfectly how far it was from help if anything had happened. The steadily falling darkness did little to diminish his fears - quite the contrary, to be honest. He couldn't help but think of all the ways merchie raiders could use this darkness to their advantage.

The convoy's commander approached him on his horse.

"Hey, Harrison, I'd say it's about time we stopped for the night, isn't it?", the man asked quite cheerfully. "No point tiring people and horses."

Captain Harrison glared at him and shook his head. Convoy chief looked at him in surprise.

"Are you kidding me? In this conditions, on this ground? Horses will break their legs."

"If we stop for the night, we'll be like sitting ducks for merchies.", the captain said. "I'd much rather we encountered some of our own patrols before anything happened." He was rather worried about that last one. He heard about this monumental stupidity that was general Potter insisting on accompanying Windsor in his attack against Arendelle, but surely the fool had left someone behind to watch his back? And yet, the patrols hadn't met anybody so far.

Convoy chief raised his eyebrow and looked around.

"Merchie raiders? Here? Look, I know they've been here, but they arrived some time ago already, and ours had well cut them from the rest of their army. I'd say they must be running low on food…"

He stopped talking as Harrison slowly looked at the food stocked on the wagons behind him.

"Then shouldn't we be the _obvious _target?" he asked acidly, looking back at the convoy chief. "You know, seeing how the alternative for them would be to attack military base?"

The man shrugged.

"Alright. I'll tell the people to arm up and be careful." He rode off, apparently still convinced that commander of his escort was jumping at shadows. The captain shook his head and looked around, trying to find some of his men in the quickly falling darkness. He had more problems with it than he hoped to.

* * *

Less than half a mile away, two Arendelle soldiers were scanning the convoy with spyglasses, all but invisible in the dark. They were distinctly unhappy at what they were seeing.

"Well, that one seems to have his head where it should be.", the senior one said. His companion nodded.

"The general won't like it."

"No, I don't think so. On the other hand, it's not our thing to decide, is it?"

They looked at each other and shrugged. Silence fell again.

So far, the tiny Fourth Corps managed to find and ambush one Weasel convoy. It's commander's rather… flippant attitude regarding security was a godsend to Arendellans, as the escort and the convoy personnel, having no plans in place in case of enemy attack, were too busy panicking to do anything unpleasant, like setting the carts on fire. Sadly, it turned out the convoy carried mostly ammunition, and precious little in the way of food. While soldiers were rather happy to replenish their crossbow bolts' stockpiles (the muskets had already broken in face of weather conditions), they were being constantly reminded by their stomachs that they were still hungry.

This convoy, though, promised a change in state of affairs. Arendellans were following it since early afternoon, when they first spotted it, and they already determined that majority of it was food for enemy who was already experiencing shortages. If Arendellans managed to take it, they would not only fill their own stomachs, but also deal a possibly devastating blow to Weasel army.

Of course, that was provided that they could win before somebody thought about burning it all.

The two soldiers observed the passing convoy for some time already, before the stomach of one of them rumbled loudly. Another looked at him with ghost of a smile.

"Okay", he said, "let's get back and report. No point in staying here, they'll be past us in a moment."

The junior one nodded and the two of them backed off quickly, on their way passing the mortal remains of the mounted scout who came too close to them for their liking.

* * *

"Well, we don't really have much choice.", general Berg said, looking into the night. A cover of clouds hanged high in the air, depraving anybody on the plateau of moon- and starlight, leaving all in the ink-dark night. The perfect time for an ambush, even though the High Table, with its lack of any sort of hills or holes, was definitely not a perfect place.

"Are we all going?", one of the colonels, Hansen, asked, looking at the map, the lamp in his head shielded by his body from any onlookers. Berg shook his head.

"I'd rather leave half of the Corps", the name was becoming more laugh-inducing with every passing day, "in reserve. We're going to do it like this…"  
Quickly, the plan was drafted. A moment later the lights were doused, the officers scattered, and the regular chaos of organizing the military operation began in utter, abnormal silence. Less than an hour later, the Arendellans disappeared into the darkness, leaving behind them only the trampled icy mud as proof of their presence.

* * *

It was time for the guard shift and cavalrymen, until that moment resting on the moving wagons, got on their horses and left to relieve the others. Seeing them leave, Harrison felt his fear rising. Right now, his forces by the convoy were the weakest; if the merchies chose to attack now…

The sight of horsemen in the distance, emerging from the darkness as if from some thick fog, had him on the edge before they came closer and he recognized his own men. They didn't report anything, neither friends nor foe, and while the latter was a good thing, the former was becoming more and more worrying. Surely they had to be in the range of army's screen. Either they lost their way catastrophically, the local commander was an idiot, or… or merchies killed all the scouts.

He felt a tingling in the back of his head, like an awareness that something was wrong, without being quite sure what it was. He looked at his men and counted them quickly. When he did it again, it dawned on him.

"Who's missing?", he asked a bit louder. The cavaliers looked at him in surprise and then started to look at each other, counting and calling the names of their friends. In the end, it turned out that four of them were missing. Perhaps they were just late. And perhaps…

"Keep your eyes open", Harrison said. "And weapons ready."

They nodded and armed themselves, looking around and trying to pierce the darkness. The captain cursed the sounds of the hooves and sleigh on the ice-mud. In his ears, they seemed louder than a passing parade, drowning any sounds that might be useful. He felt the darkness pushing on him, like a physical mist that could hide anything inside, and he would swear…

"Captain?" He almost jumped, hearing convoy chief's voice behind him. "What's going on?"

He turned to berate the man for asking stupid questions… and couldn't, because this stupid question saved his life.

_BOINGGG! _The crossbow bolt hit his helmet where his forehead was just seconds ago and bounced off harmlessly. He turned immediately, looking around, and whizzes cut the air as another crossbows shot all around. Some of his men were lucky - some weren't. He heard the screams of his men falling and frantically scanned the area, looking for the attackers. But all was darkness…

"George!", he snapped to the nearest unharmed cavalryman. "Break out!"

The man stopped just for a moment before nodding. They talked about it. If somebody attacked, ten people were to make a run for it, trying to break out and warn Weselton… No time for it now. George waved to his man, leaned over the horse as another crossbows flew by, and kicked the horse into gallop. Harrison nodded and looked back to the fight that was just starting to unfold.

We have to find them, he thought and shook his head as another bolt hit the helmet. He took his own crossbow off the back and fired in direction the shot came from. He heard a silent scream there. Good, but not good enough. We're completely blind…

He kicked the horse and ran to convoy chief.

"I need light!"

"What?", the man asked in surprise, his eyes wide open with fear.

"Light! Light the torches and thrown them out, we have to see…"

His horse jerked suddenly and screamed. Harrison looked at it and noticed the arrow sprouting from its side with terror. He looked back at the chief.

"Hurry!", he screamed at him and jumped off the horse, climbing up on top of the cart with the crossbow.

For a long time - it had to be eternity - everything was just whizzles of bolts flying to all sides and screams of men. Merchies started screaming as well, as his own men collected themselves and started to return fire. Harrison himself was lying flat on the top of the cart, firing back where the bolts came from. Suddenly, he heard sounds of skirmish behind him and turned around. He saw only chaos in the dark, but judging by the sounds, some of his men had found the merchies and were now attacking them.

A moment later, the first torchlight was thrown away and the captain narrowed his eyes, looking out. More and more and more lights were making their way out of the caravan, despite the merchies' attempts to kill the people who set them. The captain smiled grimly. Finally! We can see the bastards and we can kill them…

His heart sank when he saw just how many of them were there. It had to be at least three times as much as Weseltonians had, and Harrison's forces were already surrounded… He crawled to look down, where caravan chief, blood streaming down on his face, looked at approaching merchies with something approaching panic. Captain looked up and cursed. The merchies were already moving forward, closing the cordon around the caravan… Only one thing left to do, then.

"Light 'em up!", he called down. Caravan chief looked at him, wiping the blood off his face.

"What?"

"The carts! Set the carts on fire!"

The man nodded and, instead of throwing the torchlight in his hand away, put it into the cart.

The captain got on his feet, made two steps and jump off the wagon just as the canvas caught fire, outlining the caravan chief's silhouette. A moment later Harrison heard a scream and looked around, only to see the man toppling to the ground, arrow in the side of his head. He didn't have time to care, though, because he heard the tramping of the hooves and turned back to see merchie cavalrymen running into the camp, their swords bare. Great, and I'm horseless, he thought, jumping on unlit cart and crouching, drawing sword.

When first merchie ran past him, Harrison jumped and thrown the man off the horse. The two of them landed on the ground and the captain pierced the men with the sword, then thrown him off himself. He quickly rolled out of the way of the next horse, and saw the raider on it look at him with fires of burning cart reflecting in merchie's eyes… The man jumped off his horse and before the captain could stand up…

There was a sword in his stomach. The raider took it out after a moment and jumped back on the horse. The captain grabbed the wound, trying to stop the bleeding somehow, but it was gushing blood, and soon his hands were wet and he couldn't do anything to stop it and the world around him seemed to be in some odd haze…

I'll just close my eyes for a moment, he told himself. Just for a moment…

* * *

General Berg rode into what used to be Weasels' caravan and winced, smelling the smoke and burning wood. The colonel who led the attack greeted him with a salute and Berg noticed the bandage holding the left hand.

"Sir", Hansen said. "We've captured the caravan, but they managed to destroy some carts. We've salvaged majority of them, but still… I'm sorry, sir."

"Nothing to be sorry for, I don't think anybody expected Weasels to continue being idiots." He indicated the wounded arm with his chin. "What happened to it?"

The man shrugged.

"Stupid accident, sir. I fell off the damn horse." He looked at the animal with annoyance. Berg tried hard not to smile and masked it with looking around. He sobered up immediately, noticing the bodies on the ground, in white and red uniforms, intermingled with dead horses. He looked back up.

"Alright. Anyway, good job, Hansen. Let's round up the remaining horses, harness them to the wagons, salvage what we can from those wrecks and be off before the sunrise."

"Yes, sir." Hansen turned back and started shouting orders. The men complied immediately and Berg observed the organized chaos for a while before remembering about one more thing.

"Had anybody escaped?", he asked Hansen. The colonel narrowed his eyes.

"I've sent search parties to look for anybody who might've slipped between us, sir.", he answered.

"Good."

* * *

Lieutenant George Gardner leaned forward in his horse, wishing Traveler could go faster. Not much… just a little bit would be a godsend. His heart jumped as he heard the whizz of a crossbow bolt flying by and he gripped the reins stronger, tugging the horse to the side to evade another shot. Successfully, but sharp turn slowed Traveler down even more. George glanced back and swallowed hard, seeing the pursuit so close he could see the white of their faces. He turned back forward and hushed a few encouraging words to Traveler. The horse didn't answer, visibly tired. He's growing weak, Gardner realized, looking back again and pulling the horse to the left just as the crossbow was to hit his back. I won't make it, he thought in panic, I won't be able to lose them… Think, man, think! The captain depends on you!

Alright, I've got to be tricky, got to be tricky… Okay, Traveler, let's hope we can still do this trick… As another bolt flew by, he pulled the reins strongly and kicked the same side of the horse. Traveler read the clue correctly and artistically feigned falling on the ground. Gardner barely had time to pull his legs out of the stirrups as the animal landed. He hit the mud a moment later and had to fight for his breath for a while before finally managing to take one. Great, great… He opened his eyes and patted Traveler on the neck.

"Shshsh…", he told him. Hearing his heart pounding in his chest, he took a deep breath, then turned to have his head in the mud, as if he landed that way.

He heard eight hooves pounding the ground. A while later they stopped.

"And?", one man said, his voice muffled through the mud.

"Well, he looks dead to me."

"Shouldn't we check?"

To George's terror, he heard the boots hitting the ground. One part of him wanted to grip the sword immediately and kill his pursuers, while another urged to stay unmoving, feigning dead until the danger passed. The steps closed.

"Just look at him." He almost jerked, hearing the voice close to his ear. "He fell face in the mud. Must've suffocated by now."

George felt as if he was suffocating right now. They must be toying with me, he thought, there's no way they can't hear this pounding in my ears… Don't move… don't move…

"Better check."

"Right."

He didn't even have time to brace when he got a kick in the ribs. He landed on his back, trying not to clench his teeth, trying not to move, trying not to breathe, not to feel the mud in his mouth and eyes and nose, and the pain…

"Freakin' rag doll.", the merchie noted. "Nah, he's dead for sure."

His heart seemed like the loudest sound around. Please, just go away… I have to take a breath… go away…

"What do we do with the horse?"

"Just leave it. We don't have time to lead it behind us, the colonel must be getting pissed off by now."

He waited for some time more, unsure whether they left or not, until he couldn't stand it anymore. He opened his mouth to take a breath, then started coughing the mud out of it, then swallowed a gulp of air, opened his eyes, blinked a few times and looked around, dreading the sound of crossbow or horse hooves.

But there was only silence and light wind blowing in his face. He breathed deeply and caught his side. It hurt as hell. I hope it's not a broken rib, he thought, standing slowly on his knees. He turned and looked at Traveler. The horse answered with passive stare, still panting heavily. George crawled to it and leaned his back on horse's side.

"Alright.", he told the animal. "Let's take a few minutes' rest and go. Rollinson Gate. We'll find backup there and kick those sorry bastards off our land."

Traveler didn't seem particularly interested in his words, but Gardner didn't hold it against him.

* * *

_Point Tampani_

"Sir? Sir, wake up!"

Hjorth's voice is unusually cheerful, Nexø thought, blinking and finally opening his eyes. Something must've happened. Maybe the Weasels finally decided to go home? That would be nice.

He rolled in his bunk and sat up, straightening the uniform he slept in. Lars and lieutenant Hjorth were standing in his tent, the former holding a steaming cup of tea. Nexø thanked, taking it from him, and took a sip. He winced. It was more like hot, flavored water, but well - it was war after all. Tea probably wasn't very high on Supplies' shopping list.

"What's going on?", he asked, waiting for the tea… water… to cool down into state of drinkability.

"Scouts say the Weasels are starting to move towards the Trap." Hjorth said. "Captain Riis suggested you probably wouldn't like to miss it."

"No, I sure wouldn't." Nexø put the cup on the table and stood up, then fixed his uniform. "Stupid question, but do I look fine?"

"Like a rising sun, sir.", Lars assured him. "Shiny and pretty."

Both officers looked at the private with 'what the hell' expressions on their faces.

"Oh… kay." Hjorth finally said. "Poetic soul, I see."

"Let's go.", Nexø added before Lars' face started turning red.

Outside, the camp was its usual flurry of morning activity, although people kept on glancing west, where the entrance to the trail was. Hjorth and Lars led Nexø towards the stone wall, where wooden ladder was built to help people climb on it. The captain went first. On the top, he saw Riis. The man waved to him with wide grin on his face.

"Get here", he told Nexø. "You came just in time for the party."

"Did I? Then why isn't the camp on the alert?" Nexø asked, lying flat on the rock and crawling up to Riis.

"It's getting to it", the captain answered him. "Just silently, so that the Weasels won't be alarmed themselves."

"Nice.", Nexø admitted, taking the spyglass and looking forward. He couldn't see much behind the sharp turn of the trail, but it was sure that the Weasels were there, their sounds an odd, distorted mirror reflection of ones coming from Arendellan camp. "Did we engage them already?"

"Only the scouts. Light casualties."

Does 'light' mean three or thirty dead scouts?, Nexø asked himself, putting the spyglass down. Too much. Too much…

Perhaps you should've joined diplomatic corps, not the army, he snickered at himself and looked at Riis. The man seemed to be enjoying the morning, going as far as to chew on the sandwich. Nexø's stomach rumbled a bit, but captain ignored it and asked instead:

"Cord ready?" Riis swallowed a piece of bread and answered:

"Ready." He showed him the thin black string he held in his other hand. "Just gimme a sign."

"Well, it'll sure be…"

He didn't finish. Clear and loud, the all-too-familiar bugles of Weasel army sounded and after the fights in the Streams, Nexø knew what they meant.

"Any moment now…" He murmured, noticing that Riis threw away his sandwich and pulled out the matches. Any moment now…

He heard the pounding of the hooves.

"Light the match!", he snapped and saw a flickering light to the side a moment later.

The Weasels appeared in the canyon and Nexø took a deep breath of shock. He saw them speeding down in the Streams - but not in so wide a row. They hadn't looked so huge then… so unstoppable. They did now and for a moment, the only thing he could think of was that his men down there were very much screwed.

Common sense reasserted itself a second later. It's up to you, he reminded himself, a pound of hooves in his ears like a thousand drums. His eyes found the mark he left in the ice when they were planting the trap.

"Anddddd…" A deep breath. The first horseman galloped past the mark. "Light it up."

Riis just nodded and put the match to the cord. Nexø smelled it burning and…

Nobody was quite sure how much gunpowder, one thing they had in excess, they buried under the mud and snow in the Tampani trail. There were enough waterproof sacks to make a layer three bags deep, as wide as the trail at this point, and at least five horsemen long. Nexø worried all the time that something - either supposedly-waterproof cord or supposedly-waterproof bags - would soak, rendering the entire trap a huge waste of time and powder, and the four seconds it took for the cord to burn stretched into infinity, the thoughts of failure flying through his head.

He was proven pessimistic, though.

The two captains jumped to their feet as the humongous explosion shook the earth, a wave of heat hit their faces, and the loudest sound in the world assaulted their ears. Thick cloud of smoke covered everything, spreading up and out and consuming everything into the dense black fog. Moment later Nexø more felt than heard a low rumble, but even though he tried to peek though the smoke, everything was hidden. His ears seemed to be ringing, and black spots that had nothing to do with powder danced in front of his eyes. He finally managed to crawl forward and look down.

A man stumbled out of the fog, in tattered red uniform, all covered in blood. Nexø started to take his musket off his back, but didn't manage to do it before the Weasel stumbled on the ground, seemingly pouring blood from everywhere. Nexø looked at the dead for a while. So that what the "lucky" ones looked like… He wasn't quite sure he wanted the smoke to dissolve. He patted his ears. Why couldn't he hear anything apart from this ringing?  
He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked back. Riis was saying something, grinning, but curiously, his mouth seemed to make no sound.

"I can't hear you.", Nexø said. Riis narrowed his eyes, then pointed at his ear and shook his head. He can't hear anything either, Nexø thought, putting his hands to the sides of his mouth and screaming:

"I can't hear you!"

Riis nodded after a moment and pointed somewhere towards the trail.

"I thing we overdid it!" Nexø heard the scream like a quietest whisper. He looked at where Riis was pointing and opened his eyes in shock. The wind up there was blowing the smoke off, revealing the wall of the canyon.

Or rather, the lack of it.

Well, Nexø thought, it'll be just a bit harder for them to attack us now, seeing how we've just buried the entrance under at least two meters of rock.


	25. Chapter 25: Fugitives

_Westerguard_

It was raining, giving Anna an excuse to pull the hood of recently-bought cape over her head. She still felt horribly exposed whenever she left the room in the town, imagining Hans or some lackey of his walking closer only to discover her and scream "_guards!_". She didn't really know how this imaginary lackey could recognize her, but she still felt grateful for the rain that let her hide her face.

And a good thing she did, too, because moments later, two men in navy uniforms emerged from an alley next to her. Over the past two days her Islander became more proficient - mostly because Ferdinand, with nothing to do, insisted on teaching her as to not to bore himself to death, and because the language was basically just another dialect of Confederate language, which was a must-have among the rich and the powerful. Therefore, she understood the general gist of the conversation.

"…and Prince's looking for somebody.", one of the navy men said, playing with his knife in unnerving fashion.

"Really? Haven't heard of that." His companion was glanced at the knife time after time.

"Well, that's 'cause they want to keep it secret, you know."

"Oh, so how do you know about it?"

"I've been drinking with one of them city guards. He was so full of alcohol you wouldn't believe he's still standing." The sailor laughed and put the knife back in its sheath. "Anyway, he said they're looking for a man and a girl, only they wanna keep it secret, don't know why."

" 'Man and a girl'? Damn, that's helpful as hell.", the other one answered. "If I was walking a step closer to that girl here, they could arrest me and her."

Anna glanced at him and moved away a step. The Knife laughed and patted his companion on the arm.

"Nah, he gave more specific description. Both of them tall, like us, one a girl with golden hair and bright eyes, one redhead guy with green eyes."

Anna swallowed, thankful for the hood covering her braided hair.

"And that's supposed to narrow it?"

"Well, they travel together, so I guess?" The Knife shrugged and looked up, shielding his eyes. "Dammit, it looks like yet another serious storm here…"

The two of them sped up, probably to their ship. A moment later a lightning struck somewhere up on the mountain and Anna used it as an excuse to break into sprint.

* * *

She opened the door to their room, only to be nearly hit with a flying stick. Her heels screeched to a halt and she nearly shouted before noticing Ferdinand, standing in the center of the room with apologetic expression.

"What were you doing?", she asked, taking the stick - removed from a short broom, she noticed - off the floor and closing the door behind her.

"Sorry… I was just trying to learn… re-learn… how to fence." He looked at his left hand. "You're useless.", he hissed to it.

"Whoa, calm down. Wouldn't it be better for you to start with… I don't know, writing?", Anna asked, putting the stick on the table. "Especially seeing how you don't have a sword right now."

She opened the wardrobe and put out a pile of clothes and a bag she bought the day before.

"Anyway, that's not really important right now."

"Why, what's going on?" Ferdinand asked from behind her, looking over her arm.

"Hans is looking for us. I think it's about time we left the city, or at least this place."

"Alright."

He started to help her pack their things - the little they had- even though his method was just to push them into the bag and keep on pushing until the next one could feet in. He tried to button it as well, but Anna finally did it for him. He cursed quietly, shooting a glare at a stump of his right arm before he grabbed the stick.

"And what's that for?", Anna asked. She almost added 'you can't use it anyway', but stopped herself halfway. He must've realized what she wanted to say, though, because he gave her the stick.

"Seeing how you managed to knock out an adult man with a chair leg, I figure you could use it."

"Oh. Thanks." She took it and tried to shove it into the bag as well, but any way she tried, it kept on sticking out. She finally pulled Ferdinand's sword belt out of the bag and put it on, then attached the stick to it. The prince nearly chuckled, seeing this.

"Alright, you're armed. So now what?"

"I guess we should leave separately.", she answered. He narrowed his eyes, then nodded in understanding.

"We meet on this road up the mountain?"

"Yes, I guess so. By the giant tree. You won't miss it."

"Okay."

"Also, don't hide your stump."

"What? No!" He covered it with his hand, looking at her with anger. "Why would I show it to anybody?!"

Anna sighed, resting her forehead on the bag.

"Ferdinand, they're looking for a tall man with red hair and green eyes. You fit all three points, so you have to make people focus more on other things, and this will definitely catch everybody's attention."

"And mark me as a freak!"

"Do you _really _care what do they think about you?"

"Yes, I do!"

Anna looked at him. He was pressing the stump to his body with his other hand, looking at her with anger.

"Really?" She sighed. "Why would you care?"

"Because…"

He stopped. A moment later, he turned away from her.

"Alright. Let's do it."

"Thank you."

* * *

They decided to have an half-an-hour break between each of them leaving. Anna exited the room first, figuring she'd be less likely to catch anybody's attention than one-handed man. She took the bag, put it as to cover the stick - which made it hurt her leg - and walked down the stairs into the bar. She froze in the shadow next to the staircase, looking at three men in city guard uniforms talking with the innkeeper. The woman was explaining something to them in Weste, finishing with pointing upstairs.

I'm too late, Anna thought as the two of the guardsmen started to go to the staircase. She quickly assessed her options. She could run upstairs and warn Ferdinand, but she'd have perhaps three seconds' worth of head start and once in the room, both she and the prince would be trapped. She could try taking one of the men out with the stick, but this way she'd be cornered by the other, and the bats in their hands looked like they knew how to use them. Still, she couldn't just run. She had to buy Ferdinand some time…

The two guardsmen passed Anna, shadow hiding her well. She pulled out the stick and when the latter was passing her on the stairs, she tripped him with the stick. He cursed and started to fall on the first guardsman. Before they collided, Anna ducked under the stairs, clutching the stick in her hands. She heard the bang over her head as the man landed on the wood and winced, hearing his painful "ouch!". The first one told him something - she imagined it was about clumsiness - and the latter started cursing loudly. As they returned to going up, he wasn't getting any more silent.

Anna hoped she could do more, but there wasn't much. She looked to the back of the inn, remembering that the supplies hadn't been arriving through the main door. Indeed, there was a back exit. She glanced back at the innkeeper, the third guardsman and people in the bar, who were joking among themselves at the expense of the two guardsmen, then darted to the back door. She carefully pressed the handle, hoping they'd be open. They weren't. She looked at the bar again, but so far, it seemed nobody noticed her. She looked to the side and entered the room that was there. It proven to be storage, with no windows. She went through it to the next door and entered the kitchen, in which a woman was standing, mixing something in a huge pot. Anna hid behind the table and heard the woman asking something - "who's that", perhaps? After a moment, though, the cook must've decided that it was just rain and she returned to the job. Anna nodded to herself and looked around. There was a huge window and it was open, despite the rain outside. Anna only had to get to it and she'd be out of the place - only she had to do it when the cook wasn't looking.

* * *

Ferdinand was walking in circles around the room, too stressed to sit down and wait. He caught himself on counting seconds in his head, as if that was supposed to speed up the half an hour he and Anna had agreed upon. Not that any of them had a clock.

He stopped when he heard loud curses in Weste. He pressed his ear to the door and listened to the steps. Sitting in the room all the time, he learned to recognize the footsteps of everybody in the corridor, and those sounds were new. Either somebody arrived and bought a room, or…

He took a breath and looked around the room. No point taking chances, especially as it was two Weste, judging by the voices. Now, what should he do? Right, right… He jumped to the wardrobe and opened it wide, then did the same with all the drawers, then messed up the quilt and slid under the bed. The quilt slid down on both sides, covering him partly, and he froze there, looking towards the door. He tried to make it look as if he and Anna had already left - he just hoped the two Weste would fall for it.

He almost jumped, hearing the loud and insistent knocking on the door. He didn't say a word. A moment later, the door opened and two pairs of shoes entered. Ferdinand assessed the steps as belonging to heavy boots, the type that city guards all around the Islands seemed fond of using. He waited there as two men talked in Weste. The fact that he couldn't understand what they were saying was driving him crazy. Were they falling for his trick? Or was he a step from being discovered? He wanted to tell the two men to shut up and do something, but he just put his hand over his face and kept silent. A moment later the steps started going around the room examining drawers, rummaging in the empty wardrobe, opening and presumably looking out of the window. Okay, now get to the obvious conclusions and be out. Now.

Finally, the steps stopped. Ferdinand held his breath again, hoping that the two of them would decide on leaving. The Weste started to talk among each other… Ferdinand's heart stopped as he heard the sounds of one of them approaching and crouching by the bed. Oh, no. Why couldn't they be idiots just this one time?

The quilt was pulled up and a man shoved his head inside, eyes unaccustomed to darkness.

A sailor for the last twelve years, Ferdinand was no wimp, even one-handed, and he had enough force to catch the man by his hair and knock him face-first into the floor. The guardsman's eyes widened as he tried to bring his hands into the small space. Ferdinand knocked him again, then turned and kicked the man with full force. The guardsman yelped and slumped on the ground. Ferdinand turned again and slid from under the bed. The man's companion was just leaning down to see what's happening and he was rewarded with kick to the face that sent him back with a nauseating crack of broken nose. Ferdinand tried to pull himself up, only to fall on his right… where his right hand should be. He cursed the damn stump again and looked up just in time to see the guard pulling out his bat, staggering and holding the bleeding nose. Ferdinand slid to him, thankful for whatever the cleaner used on the floor, and cut the man's legs from under him, then caught his wrist and pressed until the man let go of the bat. Then he started to push the man to the floor. The guardsman tried to stand up and he threw Ferdinand off him, so the prince caught him by the neck and pressed to the ground again. He might be one-handed, but he held a huge size advantage over the Weste. He thrown him into the floor, then again, and after the third hit the man stopped moving.

Ferdinand finally leaned back on the bed's leg - it was hard to stand up when he had only one hand to support himself with - and looked on his handiwork. Two men lay unconscious on the floor, beaten up but alive. Ferdinand was tempted to take the second one's bat, but he thought better of it. He didn't know how to use it with his left hand, and with city guard's weapon he'd be bound to raise suspicions.

No time for that!, he told himself, standing up with help of the bed. He finally managed it, then looked out of the window. It was raining slowly and he spoke a quick thankful prayer to the Almighty for this luck - nobody outside heard them. He looked back around the room, shoved the two guards under the bed and put on the hood of his coat. Leaving all messed up, he left, closing the doors behind him with the key.

In the corridor, he looked around quickly, but it seemed nobody paid attention to him - actually, there was nobody here at all. He walked downstairs, glancing to the sides and stooping to look shorter. Nobody in the bar paid him any attention and the innkeeper was busy talking and making sweet eyes to another man in city guard suit, who seemed completely enamored with her. Good luck for you, Ferdinand thought with a thankful smile, exiting the place.

His heart jumped when he was grabbed immediately and then he cursed and let out an undignified squeal of pain as somebody squeezed his right arm. He looked to see another man in guard suit and he brought to bear the accent Gunther, his first on _Northern Wind_, got… used to get after too much beer.

"Mah, wat's 'rong wiff ya? Canchya look 'fore ya grab?"

The guard let him go with a start and Ferdinand rubbed his arm. Damn, it _did _hurt.

"Oh… sorry, mister. We're looking for a couple of runaways."

"Imma no runaway, mah, and ya musta drank waaay too much if ya see me asa couple!"

"Yes, I see. Sorry to disturb you, mister." The guard moved away, clearly apologetic.

"Ya well shoubbe!" Ferdinand exclaimed, still stooping and walking away as quick as he could. Rain hit him and he shivered under the cold water. He got way too used to the warmth of the room.

* * *

Anna felt the luck running out of her like air out of a balloon, quickly and speeding up. The cook didn't seem inclined to leave the room - quite the opposite, she was starting to do more and more things, with every step moving her closer to Anna's table. In a moment, she'd find her, and what then? I'll have to silence her before she starts screaming or something, Anna thought and looked at the stick. Not that I want to, she haven't done anything to me… Through the steady noise of falling rain and occasional clap of thunder, she heard the woman whistling some melody to herself. Anna looked at the stick again. I can't punch her too strong…

Finally the inevitable happened. The woman leaned for something and found herself face to face with Anna. The cook froze, her mouth open. Anna raised her stick slowly with one hand and put the finger of the other on her lips. The woman nodded and Anna stood up slowly. She pointed at herself and the window. Then at the woman, and again finger to the lips. The woman understood and Anna started to back off to the window, motioning the cook to walk with her and watching for the woman trying to do something unexpected. She imagined thousand different things that could be used in the kitchen.

When she was touching the window frame with her back, feeling the cold wind and rain on her cloak, it sprung to her mind that the moment she left, the woman would run to the innkeeper. Even if Ferdinand somehow dealt with the two guardsmen upstairs, there was still one left by the counter, and it'd take a moment for him to call for support. Anna winced and that was the only warning the cook got before the stick hit the side of her skull. The woman slumped to the ground and Anna caught her before she could hit an edge of the table with her forehead, then gently put her in the corner of the room. She checked the pulse and breathing - thankfully, it seemed she hadn't done anything permanent. She then grabbed the stick she left on the floor, put it in its place on the belt and pulled the hood on, then climbed over through the window. She looked around, saw nothing and imagined herself on the plan of the city she was making in her head. So the meeting point was… alright, let's go.

* * *

In the end, it took a while for shivering, stooping Ferdinand to find a path out of the city. Through the curtains of rain, and unused to hiding his face, he nearly fell into the port water twice, and once walked for some time before realizing with terror that he's going not towards the mountain, but to the keep. At least this last event helped him to orientate himself and now he knew to walk in the opposite direction. Apart from some patrols of the city guard, and a few unlucky soldiers, sailors and messengers, the streets were nearly empty, everybody hidden either aboard the ships or in the houses. Passing the port, Ferdinand noticed that one of the pendulum ships was under heavy guard. On one hand, he pitied poor people who had duty in this weather. On the other, he wondered what did the crew of the pendulum do to warrant such a heavy guard, and resolved to remember this ship. It might become useful in the future.

Finally, he found a way that was climbing up. Indeed, as Anna said, there was just no way to miss a giant tree that stood by it. Ferdinand hurried up and quickly took cover under thick branches full of leaves. He sighed with relief. It wasn't completely waterproof, but at least now the world wasn't trying to drown him.

After a moment, he looked around in alarm. Anna should be here some time ago already. Did the guards catch her when she was leaving? For a moment he froze, imagining her telling Hans where they were supposed to meet, but he threw this thought away when he remembered Anna's expression at the slightest mention of his brother. No, that wasn't happening. But still, if she had been caught… No, if she had been, the guards would've expected to find him in the room and they'd be more careful. So _where was she_?

He leaned back on the tree's trunk, hearing the steady noise of the rain, and rose his head. His eyebrows immediately followed suit as he noticed a flash of golden hair among the branches.

"Anna?", he asked, half-whispering. A moment later he saw her face clearer. "What are you doing up there?"

She grinned to him, laying on three thick branches.

"It seems we aren't the only people who decided to meet here. If you arrived ten minutes earlier, you'd bump into kissing couple that apparently hadn't seen each other for months."

"Oh." Ferdinand felt himself blushing and furiously fought it off. "So, we're both here. I knocked out both guardsmen."

"Won't they raise alarm?"

"I locked the room. I hope they won't wake up for some time." Maybe I should've gagged them, he thought.

"Okay."

"So, what do we do, now that we left the city? We can't really hide in any village, we'd stick out like a sore thumb."

"I've heard there are sheep here, so there are probably shepherd's huts somewhere on the slopes."

She started to climb down.

"Are you sure?"

"Look, I grew up in a country whose second biggest export product is sheep wool. Let's assume that I know something about sheep farming, okay?"

He nodded and resigned himself to following her.

Darkness was already falling - not much of a difference, really, as the rain kept on falling as well - when Anna noticed a fence that she claimed was the borders of grazing area. Ferdinand doubted that the poles-and-line construction could stop a chicken, much less a sheep, but he followed Anna anyway as she started to climb uphill on the grass. Ferdinand kept on sliding down on the wet ground - he figured the princess, living up north, had more experience than him, because she seemed to walk with annoying ease. Finally she stopped and turned back to him, grinning.

"There's a hut up there, maybe thirty meters from here.", she said and started to add something, but a flash and thunder of a lightning interrupted her. They both jumped and Ferdinand looked around, patting his deafened ear. He looked up at Anna again.

"Is it still standing?"

"Yes… and there are no lights in."

"Then let's hurry up before we'll be struck."

They entered - the hut wasn't locked - and Ferdinand looked around, trying to get his eyes used to darkness. There was a small fireplace in the centre of the single room, a small shelf nailed askew to the wall and a single sleeping place that smelled of hay and was probably made of it. He looked at Anna.

"Take the hay bed.", he told her.

"I think you could use it…"

"Take. The bed…", he repeated slowly. She didn't have to remind him of the damn hand all the time, it kept on itching him as it was.

They left their soaked coats on the floor under the shelf and went to sleep on the opposite sides of the fireplace. It was hellishly uncomfortable, but Ferdinand slept on worse. The steady noise of rain outside helped him fall asleep.

A knock on the door, and not a questioning one. It was more like banging, really. Ferdinand was about to tell Schneider to let him sleep, when he realized that the ground wasn't tilting. He wasn't on the ship, Schneider was most likely dead… He opened his eyes wide when he realized what the banging meant.

With a crash, the door fell into the hut. Ferdinand tried to get himself up, but forgot about the right hand and hit the floor again.

"Anna, Anna, Anna, _Anna_!"

She barely opened her eyes when four guardsmen jumped in. The leader pointed at Ferdinand.

"Take him out, he's dangerous!"

Oh, am I?, he thought bitterly and then they ganged up on him. He tried to fight back, but then…

_THUMP_, a flash and everything disappeared.

* * *

Anna's leg hurt as she was led into the keep and to a small room. The guards motioned her in, she was given a small pile of cloth and the door were closed. Anna eyed the two men who stayed inside with her.

"And what are you two going to do here?", she asked harshly. She wasn't sure if they understood, but her tone of voice must've done the trick, for they blushed and exited quickly. Anna looked at the cloth she was given. A simple dress, but it was dry, which couldn't be said about what she was currently wearing. The rain was still there when she had been walked to and through the city.

Well, it's not that bad, she consoled herself, undressing quickly and finally stretching and bending her leg. It hurt as hell. Still, she could end up like Ferdinand, who had been knocked unconscious and then carried all the way over one of the guardsmen's shoulder, without even a still-wet coat. He's going to get ill from that for sure, Anna thought, putting on the new dress. It was her size, but barely. She finished all the dressing up, straightened her leg again, fixed everything and knocked on the door. The guard looked in, nodded and motioned her out.

She followed him, another guard behind her. They didn't have clubs, but swords. Am I that dangerous?, she thought with a sour smile. Her leg was killing her again, so she slowed down. The guardsmen slowed as well, and the one who was leading her said:

"Maybe you should see the doctor, miss.", he said in heavily accented Islander.

"Thank you, but I don't need to.", she answered. The man looked at her leg, but said nothing and turned back. All right. If they think I'm haughty, they won't want to spend time near me. All the better for me.

Thankfully, they didn't climb any stairs before reaching huge, polished wooden door that just screamed "important person inside!". The guardsman knocked on the door.

"Yes?", Anna heard the voice and braced herself, clenching her teeth.

"One of the prisoners, your grace."

"Let him in."

Anna closed her eyes for a moment, then followed the guardsman inside.

Hans was sitting by the desk full of papers. When she entered, he rose his head and started to say something… Then Anna couldn't help but grin grimly, seeing his eyes filling with incomprehension, then surprise, then shock. His jaw, she noticed with certain satisfaction, nearly dropped as he stood up and leaned forward, collecting himself with difficulty.

"You.", he said slowly. "Of all the women in the world, it just had to be you."


	26. Chapter 26: Princes of the Isles

_Westerguard_

Anna and Hans glared at each other with barely restrained fury.

"Out of all the islands I could crash on.", Anna answered. "It just had to be yours."

Hans drummed his fingers on the desk and leaned closer.

"What. Are. You. Doing. Here?!"

Anna didn't lean back. From him? No. Way.

"I told you.", she said, feigning serenity. "You crashed my ship."

"It wasn't me!"

"Oh, really. Aren't you supposed to be the prince here? 'Cause if you're that bad at ruling people…"

He hit the desk.

"Shut up!", he told her. "That's not what I asked about! Why were you so close to Westerguard?! Did you forget where Arendelle is?!"

"No, I got kidnapped!", she snapped back.

He stopped and blinked in surprise, leaning back. Anna narrowed her eyes.

"It wasn't you?"

"No… Why the hell would I want to have anything to do with you anymore?"

He sat back in his chair and looked at her, considering. Through the hum of the rain outside, his rapping on the desk was barely audible.

"And what do you think you're doing?", Anna asked after moment of silence. "You just took over one of your kingdom's own islands like it's no big deal?"

"Yes.", he answered grinned. "You think it _was _any big deal? Please."

He stood up and stepped away from the desk, approaching the window on the other side of the room. He looked out, then back at her, then rose his hand. There we go, he's going to gloat again, Anna thought, resigned.

"Do you think my _dear _brothers care about Westerguard in the slightest? Oh, sure - about Westerguard's money! That counts for Friedrich, and he'd suck all the money he can get by Westerguard."

He grinned and started to pace the room. Anna envied him - her stretched leg hurt.

"But to actually ask _Weste_ what they think about it? Ha! _Never_. He only sent his tax collectors, his navy, his officials, all to make sure Weste stay little good citizens of the Isles."

"And you're supposedly better?"

"Of course I am!" Hans approached and leaned to her. His face was way too close to hers for Anna's liking. "Of course, I can see how our previous experiences can… affect your opinion about me, but tell me, do you think I'd be a _bad _king?"

"Power-hungry, that's for sure."

"That doesn't constitute _bad_."

"I think it actually does, you know."

To his visible surprise, she put a hand on his face and pushed him until distance between them was comfortable. While he was silenced by this, she continued:

"Perhaps folks here love you - well, I've seen they do, so no 'perhaps'. Congratulations then, you've become a ruler of small, rainy mountain in the middle of the sea."

He started to retort, but she didn't let him speak.

"Only did you consider that your brother will not like losing one of his major income sources? And that it's him - you know, _not you _\- who's got great navy at his disposal? Okay, cool, you've got your cannons and a few ships, but they have a finite amount of ammunition, and king Friedrich has enough ships to create a real ring around Westerguard. Your secession ends the moment the ships arrive. So I'd say you didn't really think this through."

Hans was silent for a moment. Then, to Anna's surprise, he chuckled.

"Don't you worry about me… I'll do just fine with what I have."

Anna blinked. He didn't care that he had defied one of the biggest nation on the continent? How could he be so sure?Was there some sneaky plan he worked out? Secret weapon? Blackmail material? Escape route? She had to find out, maybe she could use it to escape Hans and sabotage his plans.

"Oh, I see.", she said mockingly. "You've got everything planned in advance."

To her dismay and surprise, he started laughing.

"_Planned_? Dear Anna, I thought you'd know me better! There's no _plan_. I make it all up as I go along!"

He grabbed the edge of the desk and sat down, still chuckling. Anna clenched her teeth, feeling that she's about to punch him in the face. Before that happened, though, he managed to calm himself down. He still grinned.

"There is no great overall plan, Anna. And that's the best thing possible, you know? Because…" He rubbed the palms of his hands together. "Because I can catch anything that falls into my hands and use it… towards the overall goal."

"Really." Anna worked hard to appear unbothered, even though she had vivid visions of strangling Hans. "So what's the overall goal? Making you the ruler of the Isles, or do you measure higher? I've heard Tampere Empire looks for a better ruler. Would that satisfy you or is it still not enough for you?"

Hans looked at her with smile and narrow eyes.

"You really think I'd tell you that?"

"Well, given that you've already started gloating…"

Hans snorted.

"Forget about it." He stood up and slowly walked behind Anna. She quickly turned back and sat on the desk before Hans could disappear from her view. Her leg ached again.

"Stop playing stupid games, would you?", she told him.

He chuckled again, with a wide grin. Then he shook his head.

"Anna, don't worry. Believe me, you would find my plans _extremely _boring. The only thing that should interest you is… _your _fate." He leaned and tried to poke her in the chest, but she swatted his finger before he could do it.

"And what would my fate be?", she asked coldly.

"Why, you're going to ensure that dear Friedrich won't try anything tricky. Along with Ferdinand, of course."

Great, so I'm his hostage. Last thing I'd like to do.

"If you keep on treating Ferdinand like you do now, I doubt he'll make it to navy's arrival.", she noted.

"Oh, you worry about him? How sweet…" He sat in the chair she occupied just a moment ago. "But don't worry, I don't need him as much as I do you."

He chuckled again.

"Don't you think Elsa would be _extremely _annoyed with Friedrich if he let you die?"

Anna clenched her teeth.

"Yeah…" she said after a moment. "She might be."

"Exactly."

He kept on smiling. There was something about what he said that made Anna think… This time it was her who leaned closer, despite the aching leg.

"Tell me something. Honestly. Did you have _anything _to do with my kidnapping?"

Hans shook his head.

"No. If it was up to me, I'd never see you again in my entire life. But since you're already here, I can just as well use you."

The way he said it, as if she was an object, made her want to scream at him and punch him until he died. She didn't move, though - with guards outside, that would be suicidal. As if he hadn't seen emotions on her face, Hans stood up and approached the door.

"And don't care much about Ferdinand. I planned to pretend I have him alive as a hostage anyway, so having him - or his corpse - is just an unexpected bonus. It's not like I care about what happens to him."

And yet you wasted air on assuring me about it, Anna thought. If you really don't need him anymore, why haven't you killed him yet? Don't you think he might be problematic alive?

Hans opened the door and told something to the guards. They entered and he turned back to Anna.

"I hope you'll excuse me for your cell. I thought about putting you in one of the guest rooms, only they offer way too many opportunities to escape, and I wouldn't want you to waste this tricky brain of yours on things like that."

He motioned her to exit. She clenched her teeth, stood up and passed him without a word. Before he closed the door, she heard him saying:

"But don't worry - you won't stay there for long…"

The guards led her, again in the same configuration, through the dark corridors and down the stairs. They had to slow down there, because Anna didn't want to bend her leg, making going downstairs much more complicated. To make matters worse, there was a lot of stairs. Anna estimated she went down at least three floors. Her suspicions were partially confirmed when she saw a row of cells on the floor she was led to. She was certainly underground. The guard in front of her turned back looked at her apologetically.

"Miss, are you sure you don't want to see the doctor?"

"No, thanks." Anna answered, feeling her leg ache. "I'm doing just fine."

Guard didn't seem convinced, but he didn't say anything, instead leading her further forward.

Her cell was apparently better-class one. It had two brick walls to the sides and one made of bars that served as the door, letting the guards look in without any effort. Inside, there was a chair, a bed with hay-filled mattress, tiny table attached to the wall like the bed was and small window without glass over the bed. Sure, it was so high Anna would have to stand on her fingers to reach it, and there were bars in it, but at least there was fresh air. However, the only thing that could be called toilet was a bucket in the corner.

Anna sat on her bed and looked at the guards.

"I… I'll have something to eat sent to you.", the one who was speaking said.

Anna smiled and nodded.

"Thank you." No need to be a jerk to the man who actually cared about her comfort.

The two guards left. Anna waited a moment to make sure nobody's there, and then grabbed the edge of her dress. She pulled it up, revealing her leg… and the stick Ferdinand had given her in the inn. She had managed to hide it while guardsmen had been busy kicking the prince into unconsciousness.  
She pulled the stick out and sighed with relief, finally bending the aching leg and sitting in more comfortable position. She weighted the stick in her hands. I hope you'll be useful, she thought, after what I got through to get you in here.

She hid it in the shadow under the bed, hoping she'd manage to scare off any cleaner, and sat again, contemplating her conversation with Hans. He was hiding something, she was sure about that. Not only about his goals, but about something else as well. Only what could it be? In her head, Anna ran through the entire conversation again. Two statements struck her as meaningful.

_Don't you think Elsa would be extremely annoyed with Friedrich if he let you die?  
But don't worry - you won't stay there for long…_

She gasped when she realized what he wanted to do. He _did _have a plan.

He would kill Anna, make it look as if king Friedrich did it, and then watch Arendelle and Southern Isles go to war.

* * *

Ferdinand returned to consciousness and immediately wished he hadn't done so. It seemed everything hurt him. His head, his legs, his stomach, his chest, his hand… the damn hand hurt and itched all the time. He tried to reach and scratch it, but his fingers met air. He cursed silently and opened his eyes.

It was dark. He wasn't sure why - were there no windows? Was it night already? He slowly sat and blinked until he managed to see something. He was in a cell, under a wall, on something that felt like hay and probably was hay. Three walls were brick, or perhaps stone. Opposite him, though, there were bars, and faint light from somewhere to the left from behind them. Ferdinand tried to stand up and cursed again, falling to his feet on shaking legs. He looked at himself, noticing wet clothes, then examined his body carefully. Lot of bruises and swellings, but, thankfully, nothing seemed broken. He tried to get to his feet again, feeling his stomach twist with hunger. This time, he managed to stay on them, but fell again before reaching the bars, as if some force pulled him. He looked back and noticed that his feet are shackled, and he's chained to the wall.

He quickly examined the room, but there wasn't much. Except for the layer of hay that was supposed to serve as bed and the bucket that was probably his toilet, the cell was virtually empty. His feet - somebody took his shoes - felt ice cold on the floor. He tried to stand on the hay to escape freezing rock, but stupid dry grass hurt his feet, so he finally sat and started to rub them. Soon he was all freezing. It was so cold… He coughed, then coughed again, with enough strength to make spots of light appear before his eyes. He sighed, resting his head on his knee, and coughed again.

Some time later - he didn't know. Minutes? Hours? - he lied back on the uncomfortable bed of hay and looked at the ceiling, mirror image of the floor and walls. Someone must come soon, right? Someone will come…

Time passed and it seemed as if nobody was going to come. Ferdinand turned on the side, then again and again, holding his stomach with one hand. Somebody will come, he told himself. Somebody will…

He heard sounds of boots on the stone floor and sat up, listening. Someone came closer… Then stopped. Then the light started moving. Away…

"No, no…" Ferdinand started to say, then cleared his throat and screamed:

"Hey! Anybody there! Please, is anybody there?! Somebody!"

He started to cough again and couldn't stop for a while. When he finally finished, he realized that the steps and the light were closer. He started to smile…

"So… I see you're here."

He blinked, seeing the man in the entrance.

"Klaus. B… Been a while."

Klaus Hauser look as Ferdinand remembered him. Handsome man is his forties, with grayed hair and deep green eyes. A few years added him some age, that was visible, especially in the light of the torch he was holding. He looked at Ferdinand with… Prince shivered, recognizing hatred.

"Yeah. A while. I've noticed you've got yourself a frigate. Well, it was nice while it lasted."

Ferdinand felt as if he was punched in his stomach. He clenched his hand into a fist.

"It was you who ordered her sunk, wasn't it?!"

Klaus shrugged, smiling maliciously.

"Well, it was a danger to Westerguard, so yes, I ordered it sunk."

"You… bastard!" Ferdinand got to his feet and came as close as he could. "You goddamn bastard! It wasn't about danger to Westerguard, it was just so that you could get your petty little revenge!"

"_Petty_?! You call it 'petty'?!" Illusion of calmness disappeared. Klaus grabbed the bar as if he wanted to break it. "You should be here with me! Disgraced, hated, all but kicked out! But no, you were protected, because you're the king's favorite brother!"

He panted, took the hand away and continued:

"Do you know what it's like?! To see all your friends turn their backs on you, to see the dream of your life crumbling in front of your eyes, to be sent to the goddamn end of the world to be left and forgotten?! You know what it's like?! No, you've got no damn idea!"

He hit the bars with his fist with enough strength to make them resonate. Ferdinand moved back a step, seeing hatred filling Klaus' eyes.

"And what was I supposed to do?! What would it help if I went down with you?!"

"At least there would be _justice_! But no! You're high noble sir, law doesn't apply to you!" He banged the bars again and stood for a moment, panting heavily.

He finally leaned closer.

"I _hate _you", he whispered. "I _hate you _and I enjoyed every single moment of watching your ship sink. I think I even saw your men trying to save themselves. They all lost to the storm. Wonderful sight."

Ferdinand clenched his teeth, but Klaus was too far away. The admiral smiled mockingly.

"Oh, does that hurt your feelings? You know now what it feels like? To lose all you've cared about? You know what it feels like to look on the person who caused it?"

"So why don't you just kill me?" Ferdinand asked. "What, you don't have the balls to make the final move? I bet you feel great observing others slaughtering people at your command, but you're just too much of a _coward _to kill me…"

Klaus' eyes narrowed.

"If I could, I'd kill you right this moment, or even earlier, the moment you were found, you know? So when Hans comes to chat, I suggest you be nice to him, 'cause I won't be."

Ferdinand blinked. Hans wanted him to stay alive? What?

"Surprised? Well, I guess you expected something different. Seems like betrayal runs in the family…"

Klaus started to leave. He had disappeared behind the wall before Ferdinand realized that he can't let him leave.

"Klaus! Wait! Wait, please! Please, I'm so sorry about all that, please, come back!"

The admiral returned after a moment and looked at Ferdinand suspiciously.

"What?"

"Please, I'm… I'm sorry. About what happened, about people turning against you, and about you getting sent here…"

"Save the air." Klaus interrupted him. "It's not like I care whether you're sorry or not anymore. What the hell do you want?"

Ferdinand sighed and closed his eyes.

"Can you… can I please have something to eat? And see a doctor. I think I need to."

He opened his eyes again and looked at Klaus.

"Somebody'll bring you food soon.", the admiral said coldly. "But Hans didn't say anything about you seeing a doctor and I won't do anything more for you than he ordered."

He started to leave again.

"Wait. Wait! Can you at least tell me what time of the day is it?"

Klaus shrugged and left, deaf to Ferdinand's screams and pleads.

The prince sat on the floor of the cell and then lied down on it, right on the cold rock. No point talking to Klaus… although he doesn't want to know me anymore, so no point talking to _Hauser_. He swallowed and rubbed his right arm. Most of the aches left him, but the hand, if anything, seemed to hurt even more than when he woke up. Finally, Ferdinand sat back up and leaned on the wall. He started to unwrap bandages Anna put on his arm… He gasped and covered his mouth when he felt the stench.

I hope someone will come quickly, he thought, because I really need a doctor.

* * *

_Koenigsberg_

Eduard Braun leaned on the wall and looked at the helmet he held in his hands, wondering. So far, he managed to find out, more or less, which of his subordinates worked for Michael from the beginning, and who stayed loyal to the current king. The size of the latter group actually made the captain slightly more optimistic.

Slightly.

On the other hand, situation in the court was bound to become unhinged again, what with Michael having left yesterday. In his place, other members of von Schwalbe family started to arrive, and it seemed as if every single one of them wanted to be declared the next king, skipping over his predecessors. So far, four of them has come, and semaphores said another two were inbound in the next few days. Braun sighed and rubbed his temples with one hand. He had enough problems as it was, but younger von Schwalbes were like vultures, attracted by the scent of incoming death.  
Kingsguard shook his head and returned to walking down the corridor. With four princes already present, getting something done was a mess, with kingsguards busying themselves with making sure the nobility is safe, apparently against the wishes of said nobility who tried to get rid of them with any excuse. What's worse, with Michael not present, the matters that needed resolving were piling up. The only bright side to this entire situation was that His Majesty finally started to get out of his shell and seemed to be getting himself together, however slowly. Princess Annie was also starting to get better - thanks, in huge part, to efforts of her cousins, children of prince Nicholas - although father and daughter still didn't talk to each other.

However, that was hardly Braun's concern at the moment. He was tasked with finding hard evidence against Michael, and he felt that failure was imminent. He pretty much ran out of leads - if there were ever any. What he was doing right now was a gesture of desperation. He didn't expect it to work out.

He approached the right door in the dark, damp dungeons under Koenigsberg palace and nodded to the man who stood guard in front of them. However he disliked the connotations of his decision, he waited until a _loyal_ kingsguard stood by the door before approaching castle prison. It paid back. The man just saluted and opened captain the door, without questions. Braun entered.

* * *

Patrick Schneider, who had been - once, in a past that seemed oddly happy now - a kingsguard, opened his eyes when he heard the sound of the door opening. It wasn't time for neither the doctor, nor the woman who brought food and cleaned. He turned his head and was surprised to see familiar figure of captain Braun. Patrick tried to sit and salute.

"Sir…", he managed to say. He saw flicker of surprise in captain's eyes and held back a smile. Even weeks after beating he took from another two imprisoned guards, he was still covered in bandages, took medicine and had troubles breathing and speaking. The climate in the prison hadn't help. But Schneider wanted to stay kingsguard, even if he recognized hopeless case when he saw one.

"No need to sit, sergeant.", captain answered, coming closer and sitting at the edge of the bed. "I see you're not in your best shape."

"Yes, sir…" Patrick took a deep breath, lying back down.

"Still, I see you're doing better."

"Thank you", he took a breath, "sir."

Captain nodded.

"I need to talk to you, Patrick. About the day before prince Hans escaped."

Schneider swallowed. So there it was. The conversation he hadn't wanted to make, the secret over which he had been beaten to near death…

…and having nearly met death, he decided it just plain wasn't worth it. Especially as prince Michael left, if gossip the guards at the door shared with him were true. And why would Patrick care? He was… he sometimes wondered why he had become so oddly at ease with idea of his own death.

"Well… sir…" He swallowed and took a breath. "So… this day, prince Michael came to visit prince Hans…"

Braun blinked and Patrick notices with surprise a new light in captain's eyes, as if the man suddenly discovered a new cause worth living for.

"Michael talked with Hans?", he asked, smiling and leaning closer. "Despite king's ban?"

"Yes, sir."

Braun smiled even wider.

"Tell me what they were talking about."


	27. Chapter 27: Proper preparations

_Point Tampani_

Vincent Meyers slowly made his way over yet another giant rock and sighed when he saw that he's not even close to the end of the wreckage. The merchies had certainly chosen the point of their trap well. The collapse of the walls had taken the only good path in range of a few miles with it, leaving the scouts with options of either going two hours back before going forward, or trying to pass the heaps of rock and sneak out of the view of merchie scouts, who had good eyes. Understandably, most Weseltonians favored the former approach.

And _of course _I had to be the one standing close when captain concocted this stupid plan, didn't I?, Vincent asked himself, trying to find a way around yet another rock. So far, his first assessment of situation proved correct - there was no way to lead infantry through the wreckage without sentencing it to death. He was now looking for other options, and he even had an idea. Well, Vincent was sure many people had already came up with this idea, but he was also sure that general Windsor would rip his head off his shoulders for suggesting it out loud. The army was low on supplies, after all, and it seemed nothing was coming through.

Well, if the general plans to do nothing but sit on his stacks of powder and save it for later, we won't accomplish much, Meyers thought with annoyance, grabbing the edge of the rock and pulling himself up. He was thankful for thick gloves he was wearing - the gunpowder's cut left rocks with sharp edges and…

_click!_ He froze, his hands shaking from effort of keeping him up, and then slowly lowered himself back on the unsure ground. He'd swear the quiet sound he'd just heard was a crossbow string being locked in place. He held his breath and turned, pressing his back to the rock he planned to climb on. He tilted his head and listened carefully, trying to hear something more.

Silence, silence. Was he so close to merchie camp already that he heard their watchmen's weapons? Or had merchies sent a patrol into the wreckage, trying to sniff out any Weselton scouts? Whatever it was, going further didn't bid well for the future of corporal Vincent Meyers. He kept on listening.

Soon enough, he heard silent taps on the rock, as if muffled steps. So a patrol. He cursed in his head, thankful that he thought of wrapping his boots in cloth to silence them. So they might've seen his gloves, or a flash of them, but on bright gray rock, in the midmorning sun, they'd probably rather check. And that's just what they're doing, Meyers thought, clenching his teeth. Great! Just great.

He slowly slid down until he was nearly sitting and looked around. Two rocks to his left supported each other, leaving a nice hiding spot between them. Carefully making his way on the uneven, ragged stones, Meyers came to them, then took the crossbow off his back and slid into the free space. To his surprise, it was rather deep, and when standing straight, his breast was level with the rocks he had walked on. Good firing spot, he thought, looking.

Three men appeared on the rock he had planned to climb, all in white uniforms with merchie hoods. They were disappointingly professional. One got down on the rock, while others were looking around and scanning the area with their crossbows raised. When the man down had sure footing, he started to do the same, and then another man started going down. Slowly, Meyers slid down when the two of them were looking in another direction, until they disappeared from his view. He then waited anxiously, hoping that they hadn't noticed him.

Apparently, he was lucky, because he heard nothing. Even though Meyers was used to moving around in total silence, it was eerie how the three men remained silent. Vincent cursed in his head with frustration. How long was he supposed to stay here? How should he know where the three would leave? Dammit, why can't they, like, talk to each other or something? Why do they have to be so hopelessly professional?

Finally he heard the taps of wrapped boots as the three men came closer. Vincent grabbed the pommel of his knife tightly, trying not to think about his rather low chances of survival if the three merchies decided to turn him into needle pillow again. They didn't come close, however - it seemed they were… Yes. He smiled sourly. They were taking the same path he walked, only in opposite direction.

Meyers waited until the sounds disappeared behind the rock before slowly standing up and looking around. Nobody. Good. He quietly exited his hiding and looked in the direction the three merchies went. Now, what are your plans, gentlemen?, he asked, following them.

* * *

"This better worked", Nexø whispered to himself, looking absently at the cards in his hand.

"You have some tricky plan to win with us, Soren?", Riis asked from across the table. Major Lund, fanning himself with cards as if they were lady's fan, only grinned. Nexø blinked himself back to reality of the open tent, the table and opened, half-empty bottle of cheap win.

"Ah, perhaps.", he said, looking through his cards more consciously. The situation was rather depressing. "I was talking about this scheme you talked our scouts into."

"You mean _we _talked.", Riis noticed, pointing at him. He took a sandwich off the table and bit at it. "Donh hay hoo shyfd e' ley…" He swallowed. "Don't try to shift the blame on me."

"I'm not shifting any blame on anybody!" Nexø stated harshly. Riis was taken aback a bit and Lund rose his eyebrows.

"Hey, hey, Soren, chill!", he said. "We're playing to be less stressed, not more, remember?"

Nexø closed his eyes and nodded.

"Yes. Sorry. Really, I envy you the skill."

Lund patted him on the back and Soren clenched his teeth. It seemed as if ever since his return from Tampani trail, everybody tried to tread lightly around him. Perhaps for a reason, but still. It was annoying.

"What I meant when I said 'you' was that you did most of the talking.", he said slowly. "I only made a suggestion."

"Alright." Riis shrugged and looked back into his cards. "Anyway, I believe it will work. Windsor's head must've been hit by one of those powder charges of yours. If I were him, I'd already start blowing up all those rocks to make way."

"Sure, sure…" Nexø grabbed the bottle and took a sip. It was a tiny bottle, and they wouldn't get another for the next four days, so the sip was tiny as well. "Still, I… I just can't stop thinking that he's not doing this because he's got something trickier in mind."

"You think Dahl didn't have us think of all possible ways Windsor can get tricky? Man!", Lund patted him on the shoulder again. "By yesterday evening I felt like my brain was going to die from exhaustion!"

He took the bottle. In opposite to Nexø, he obviously didn't care much about saving the precious drink, and took a huge gulp before putting the bottle back on the table. Riis looked at what little was left with melancholy in his eyes and major continued speaking:

"Listen, Soren, you can see yourself what the terrain we're fighting in is like. There's just no way for Windsor to be tricky, alright? The only way he could surprise us would be if headless army in the Streams managed to break through, which I call unlikely! And you?"

"Probably unlikely…", Nexø agreed. Lund patted him on the arm again and thrown his cards on the table. Two captains leaned closer and Riis sighed. Major grinned.

"My cash, gentlemen, if you please?"

* * *

"_Home" valley_

General Jens Olafsen looked at the report in his hands with curiosity and glanced at general Kristiani. Rasmus was fiddling with his wedding ring, grinning cheerfully.

"So it seems Bjorn's still in action, huh?", Jens said, folding the report and looking at the map spread on the table. "Well, I guess it would be hard to expect old bear to slow down…"

"Is this complaints I hear?", Rasmus said, throwing the ring and catching it with his hands. Olafsen chuckled.

"No, of course not. More power to him! I'm just thinking about what should we do now, seeing how he managed to deprive the army up there of supplies."

"You think he could strike them?"

"Not sure, really. He must be running low on food himself, and anyway, we'd still have to find him somehow to tell him that, and I don't think we have enough scouts to spare to go looking all over the High Table."

"True."

The ring slipped onto his finger and Rasmus stood up and leaned over the map.

"So I say we attack them in a few days, when they'll start to feel the hunger gnawing on their bones."

Jens nodded, but patted with his finger on Point Tampani.

"I'd go with it, but this here still worries me."

"Tampani? Well, your colonel Dahl seems to have them pinned down well enough."

"Perhaps, but I wouldn't underestimate trapped enemy."

"You call Windsor trapped?"

"With Bjorn ravaging his rear? Yes, I'd say so. Windsor can now either try to break through the wreckage and take our supplies, or return to High Table on a wild goose chase for Berg and his men. He's sneaky, but not a coward, so I suspect he'd try the former."

Kristiani nodded.

"Perhaps… but we can't let an opportunity like this pass. Bjorn won't hold Weasels off to infinity, and soon the supplies will start flowing again. If Windsor tries to attack and somehow succeeds in taking Dahl out of action, we'll be stuck between two armies, one of which will be free to run rampant on our countryside all it likes. Even if Simani manages to bring First Corps to face them - which, mind, is still not sure - they'll still fight too close to the capital for my liking, and they'll have more than one opportunity to burn our fields…"

Which still aren't all that well after the Great Freeze, Olafsen finished in his head. Still, he nodded, because Kristiani had a point.

"Alright. Let's take our time to prepare and let the Weasels up there starve a bit. Then we strike… We take the High Table…"

"…and then we hit Windsor from the back.", Rasmus finished, leading his finger on the map in the path they'd take. Jens nodded.

"Well, and let's hope it'll all go as planned.", he added, hoping to Almighty that it'll go at least half as well as planned.

* * *

_Rollinson Gate, west of High Table_

The militia officer who brought lieutenant Gardner a cup of hot chocolate also brought the news that some "military high-up - ya' know, sir, them officer" had arrived. Leaning on the wall of militia outpost and looking at sixteen-years-old militiaman, George decided to take "high-up" part with grain of salt, as he rather doubted general Carter or anyone on his staff would grace Gardner with his presence.

Nevertheless, he saluted, seeing the captain badges on newcomer's shoulder. He swallowed, reminded of his own captain, now surely dead. The officer apparently hadn't noticed that, because he smiled, staying on the horse.

"At ease, lieutenant. I've heard you've had quite an ordeal."

Yes, George figured it was an ordeal. When he had finally reached the Gate - exhausted, starving and thirsty beyond belief, with Traveler nearly collapsing underneath him - stupid militia captain who ran the post had wanted to postpone sending the message, because 'it's dark already, and the postman arrives tomorrow anyway'. Gardner had discovered he hadn't been as tired as he had thought, and the captain had found out about it moments later, when furious shouts and screams of the soldier had nearly deafened him.

"Well, sir, you could say so.", Gardner answered now, smiling a bit as well. "I'm all fine now, though." The captain nodded.

"That's good. Mount up, lieutenant, and let's go."

About two hours later they arrived in a small town called Mockinbyrd. George vaguely remembered passing it on the way to High Table, and he also remembered that Mockinbyrd held a cavalry garrison…

Which was apparently preparing itself to leave, George noted with some shock. The entire place seemed to have at least twice as many people than before, and was bustling with activity. The captain who had led him here grinned, seeing lieutenant's expression.

"We've suspected something's afoot when we stopped getting messages from generals Windsor and Potter.", he explained. "Your revelations hurried us up. We'll probably be leaving in the evening."

"Oh… whoa."

I just hope they won't ask me to accompany them, George though, patting Traveler's neck.

* * *

_Tampani trail_

What are they trying to do?, Meyers asked either himself or the Almighty, because merchies sure as hell weren't giving him answers. He followed them silently, but they seemed to just stop in random points and observe the camp, even though they were looking in wrong directions all the time. They bypassed the spot in which they could observe the entire place as if it was nothing, and then stopped for a moment in a place from which they could only see part of horse corral and canyon wall. And it wasn't the only time when they made such an odd decision. Vincent slowly started to think that those merchies simply had something wrong with their heads.

He was hiding behind a rock, watching them observe and consult something with each other with hand gestures. Unfortunately, they were too far away for Vincent to work out what they were gesturing about, but he didn't dare come closer. At least one of them was always scanning the area around them, looking for trouble…

Meyers blinked as they started to walk over the rock they were hiding behind. For all the time he was watching them, they didn't dare go so close to Weselton camp, always observing stupid places…

There must be something in this stupid places that I can't see from here, he decided and resolved to follow the trio as closely as possible.

When the last of them disappeared from his view, he quickly ran to their place and carefully looked over the rock. Ah, so that's what they were looking for, he thought sourly. Side entrance to our camp… But where's the watchman? There should be…

He heard a silent thump and ducked behind the rock. A moment later, muffled footsteps approached, bringing something with them, and muffled footsteps left, without this something. Vincent waited for a while before looking and confirming his guess. The watchman - thankfully, nobody Vincent knew - was lying on the ground with unnaturally twisted neck.

Should I alert the camp?, he asked himself, climbing over the rock and sliding down. Not now… I'll scare them and they'll escape, killing me in the process. Better let them come further, so that I won't be the only thing standing between them and merchie camp.

He came to the exit of this little hideout and gasped, seeing his army's own camp. He looked around quickly, trying to find the silhouettes of three merchies, which wasn't easy. Everything and everyone seemed to be moving, and even narrowing it down only to white uniforms wasn't helping in a bit… there! Under the wall, in the shadow. He sprang out and started to go between the people in their direction. They were going towards some carts. What were they trying to do? They didn't have backpacks or any sack they could carry powder in, like the last time…

"And what are _you _doing?!", somebody caught him from behind. Vincent turned back to see scout lieutenant he had only met briefly at the meals.  
"Aren't you supposed to be watching that entrance?!"

"Me? No, the other guy just got…"

"Back to the…!"

"Dammit, listen to me! Three merchies offed the guy! There!"

He pointed in their direction. Lieutenant snorted, but looked there… of course, they had to disappear behind the carts.

"Yeah, sure! Back on your station!"

What the hell?! Did they swap your brain with pig's after you were born?!

"Idiot!" Meyers said and slid out of man's grasp, running towards the carts. He heard the man following him with curses and waved to the man next to the carts.

"Hey! Hey, what those hold?!", he called. The man rose his head.

"Powder, why?"

Oh, hell, hell, hell, hell, they don't need anything but matches… He saw merchies quickly walk from behind the cart and away. He pointed at them.

"Them! Down!"

The man turned and looked at the mechies, then started calling. Three men started to run, crossbows loaded, Meyers had to reach the carts, quickly, before they…

_BOOOM!_

* * *

_Point Tampani_

"Well, that sounded like an explosion.", Riis said, looking towards the heap of rocks and Weasel camp behind it. Nexø nodded slowly.

"So… it did work out in the end?", he said carefully.

"At least for now, I guess…"

Lund appeared behind them.

"HA! Worked! Worked! Ha, forget about blowing up the passage!"

Nexø sighed, hearing the never-faltering cheerfulness of the man and listening on. After a moment, he said carefully.

"There are no more explosions…"

"…and then we'll… What?" Lund stopped and started listening as well. Nexø bit his lip. So, it did work, albeit not as well as he hoped it would. Still, he figured it could be worse… It could not work at all…

Another three dead, he thought to himself. I shouldn't feel so… neutral about it. Or maybe I should? Damn it. Damn it, damn this war, damn the goddamn army! Just end, end, end already!

A while later, colonel Dahl called Lund and other majors to himself for a brainstorm and two captains left for their own units. In Nexø's place all seemed calm. Lars was waiting with this terrible, watered-down tea, apparently declaring himself the new aide de camp to the captain. Hjorth and few other lieutenants were playing cards, while Rune apparently busied himself with needlework. The rest alternated between sleeping, chatting and listening to Weselton camp. Nexø joined Hjorth and others in the game and soon won back at least half of what he had lost to Lund. Perhaps there's some connection between your military rank and skill at cards, he thought, noting with slight amusement scorning looks others gave him. What would it be like, to pin general Windsor and general Olafsen against each other in cards and judge the war by the result? Ha, of only that was so easy…

Lund returned and patted him on the shoulder. Hell, does this man have any sense of personal space?!, Nexø asked himself in annoyance and saluted, raising his head.

"Sir."

"Soren, Dahl's sending you and your boys out again. It seems we've worked out a way for Weasels to attack us. It's, like… really improbable, but you know what they say…"

"Better safe than sorry?"

"Yep."

And so it was. As the evening was falling, Soren and his men were climbing for the third time on the walls surrounding Tampani trail. This time, with no backpacks of powder, only food, water, crossbow bolts, crossbow, knife and sword. A few men carried lines as well, in case they were necessary. Once up, people were leaving in groups of twenty. Nexø wished them all good luck, hoping that none of them would die and knowing this was a foolish dream to have.

Still, he wished them good luck as they spread around, putting corks in all the paths Weasels might try to use to sneak up on them.

* * *

_Tampani trail_

His head still felt like somebody was working with hammers inside, and he felt half deaf. The healer had cleaned his face, commenting on the thick jacket protecting him again - I'm too lucky for my own good, he had thought then - and he felt almost like human being, albeit one after some bad experiences.

Still, the captain expected a report, so Vincent Meyers was standing and reporting. Despite general Windsor's presence, he concluded:

"…and well, sirs, I believe… or rather believed, before Arendellans blew up a huge piece of the powder stock… that the best way would be to clear the path with powder charges."

"Fight fire with fire, huh?", the general murmured, apparently to himself, looking down on the map. "Not really possible… no, we go on with the current plan. Thank you for your report, sergeant."

Meyers blinked.

"Uhm… I'm a corporal, sir."

Windsor winced and captain looked at Vincent with a smile.

"Sergeant, rest assured that your general knows what he's saying."

So that meant that… Oh.

"O-of course. Thank you, sir…"

He saluted. Captain smiled wider and nodded.

"At ease. You've earned your promotion during the last weeks."

They left a moment later, Vincent still half-dazed from both the explosion and unexpected promotion. He finally felt confident enough to ask his captain:

"Sir, what's the… current plan?"

"Oh, the current plan… Well, it's Windsor-ish and sneaky. Basically, infantry attack in scout style."

"Oh… sir, the same thing general Potter tried to do in Stone Streams? Attack from over the canyon? But… I don't think that's possible here."

"And what do you think the general and us have been spending last days on? We were working on making this possible."

Meyers nodded and winced. With his luck, he'd end up leading one of the groups. He was as sure of it as one could be without direct order.

The captain must've seen this, because he laughed.

"Don't worry. This time, you're staying with the healers."

"Oh, thank you so much, sir…"

Still, I bet trouble will find me somehow, Vincent thought, looking up in the sky. Even priests claimed Almighty can have wicked sense of humor, after all.

* * *

_Arendelle_

And once again, Elsa was alone in the castle, despite presence of other people.

She looked out of the window in her bedroom - her new bedroom. The one she spent most of her life in was closed. Too many memories.

Frost started to form on the window where it was closest to her face. Elsa closed her eyes, still delighted by her newfound ability to control her powers. When she looked again, water was sliding down towards the potted plant Old Kai put there. When she asked him why the plant, he joked dryly that with her freezing the window every so often, at least something can benefit from extra water. Elsa figured it made sense, even if she sometimes woke up from her nightmares and had to thaw the flowers.

She sighed - she shouldn't let her thoughts wander like this. She felt that the time she had for herself was slowly escaping her with every new trouble. Thankfully, scheming generals seemed to at least know war, if not politics, so that angle was covered until something went wrong big time. But the Royal Council insisted Elsa end the war right now - how? Probably by freezing both armies to death or something equally murderous. Or freezing Weselton and taking it hostage.

Elsa didn't want to do that. For the first two months of her rule she saw enough of the suffering the Great Freeze caused. She didn't want to inflict it on anybody anymore, and she had know idea whether she could even control it on such a scale. She hoped Kristoff and young Madsen could solve the diplomatic mess and convince Charles that peace is the best option.

She snickered to herself. "Young Madsen". He's at least six years older than you, even if he looks like he's Anna's age, she reminded herself, and the last part of this thought spoiled her mood again.

Anna. It seemed to Elsa that she had already searched her entire kingdom looking for her little sister and perhaps Anna could look after herself, but that didn't stop Elsa from worrying about her. She had no message from her sister, no information whatsoever about where she might be, no notes from kidnappers, nothing, nothing and nothing. It was almost as if Anna went to sleep one night and her bed ate her.

Elsa thought for a moment about checking the insides of the bed, but dismissed the thought. After all, she already took some steps to find Anna. Before she got the answer, the only thing she could do was to worry.

And worry and worry and worry. She didn't wonder anymore that her father the king grayed early.

* * *

_Inner Sea_

The storm was rampaging around the deserted part of the sea. Darkness ruled, with thick black clouds, endless rain, howling wind and high waves crashing loudly into each other. A poet might say the sea was boiling. Somebody inside might attest that it was deadly cold. But there was no poet and no swimmer. In fact, there seemed to be no human being to witness dark rage of the sea.

That didn't mean, of course, that the ragged, ever-changing, rain-torn waters were devoid of any beings.

Whether Elsa's "steps to find Anna" was actually alive was a subject up to debate. It certainly seemed very lively, running on the waves, water calming and freezing into ice under its four feet. The creature seemed not to feel the rain, or the wind, or anything at all. Understandably, seeing how it was made of ice and accompanied by a small cloud to keep it cold. It didn't have anything one could call eyes, and at the end of its long, greyhound-like muffle there was a huge chunk of ice.

It wasn't exactly nose. It was hard to describe what exactly it was sensing. Perhaps, seeing how magic was based on emotions, it was following the bond between Anna and Elsa. Perhaps it was something even stranger, which would baffle scientists of the future to no end.

What counted was that the greyhound-like creature of snow was sensing Anna, and through the rain and storm and waves it was running restlessly south, towards the faraway island of Westerguard.


	28. Chapter 28: Taking the initiative

„_Home" valley_

The recent thaw was a godsend, at least in the eyes of general Olafsen. The rains washed the ice out of the Streams, and while the stony canyons were still slippery, it was possible to walk in them without risk of falling and breaking one's neck. Moreover, the weather was right. Rainless, but full of clouds that covered sky and moon, plunging the Streams into near complete darkness.

General Olafsen looked in the sky and nodded to himself, then looked at his commanders.

"No last-minute thoughts?", he asked them. They all shook their heads.

"Great. Then if everybody knows the plan, let's get to it."

They saluted and left, although one man stayed, looking at the clouds with troubled expression.

"Colonel Olsen?"

The officer turned to the general.

"Uhm, yes. Sorry, sir. It's just… the weather's been freaky lately. I mean, snows at rains in early autumn? That… isn't normal."

"I know. The Great Freeze just messed up the weather, I guess. It should set itself properly in a year or so."

"Yeah… I'm just worried it'll start acting up when we'll be up there."

"We usually get some warning from weatherwatchers. Anyway, there's not much we can do about it."

"Aye, sir. Sorry for taking your time."

Colonel left. Olafsen nodded and noticed Kristiani approaching his tent.

"All fine on your end?", he asked him.

"Yep. All in place and ready to dance."

Jens rolled his eyes at Rasmus' attempts at rhyming. Kristiani looked at leaving colonel and asked:

"And how about you?"

"Nothing's wrong. Let's pay visit to the guns."

* * *

Their position was a line of cannons in front of the Stone Streams. Colonel commanding them welcomed two generals with a nod. Kristiani smiled to him.

"Ready?"

"Whenever you command, sirs.", the man answered, briefly looking over his guns. Kristiani nodded and glanced at Olafsen, who shrugged.

"Your command, your call."

"Thanks." Kristiani grinned and looked at artillery commander. "Then if you were so kind, colonel, start pounding them."

"Right away, sir."

Orders were passed and the man rose his hand. Generals stepped back a bit. The gun crews were looking at the raised hand. And… _swoosh_, the hand went down, and the fire touched the fuses. A second for them to burn and…

_BOOM!_, thunders roared along the line, guns jumped back, smoke filled the air. Gun crews jumped to them immediately, started to roll them forward, clean, pick up the powder load and next shot. Much quieter _boom _of shots reaching their destinations. A runner emerged from the smoke a moment later.

"Sirs, watchers report targets hit the position of enemy camp, but so far, no answer."

"Good." Olafsen looked at the artilleryman. "We'll be with the watchers. Do your job, colonel."

"Aye.", the man just answered, clearly more focused on his guns than superiors. Jens and Rasmus followed the messenger through the clouds of black smoke, the former coughing a bit. A moment later another loud thunder pierced the air and roared, sending shots towards the camp. And then another quieter boom when they reached their targets.

"I wonder if Weasels actually have guns!", Rasmus said to Jens over the ringing filling their ears.

"If they did, they'd probably use them already!"

Another shot was made before they reached the observation tower and climbed upon it. The captain up there saluted quickly and returned to his observations through the spyglass.

"There seem to be some movement up there, sirs…" he said. "Hard to tell, the smoke the shots made is covering anything."

"Did we hit the camp?", Kristiani asked.

"Yes, but every next shot is slightly more off, sir. I'm sending messengers to colonel so that he can fix this."

"Good."

Olafsen nodded, looking through his own spyglass. It was to be expected. They had days to calibrate the guns for the first round, but every shot was jerking the cannons back and even the best crew couldn't put its gun in the same position as it was before.  
Another thunder and BOOM of the cannons, and another booms of shots hitting the ground. The explosions of dust and smoke were highlighted by the faint light of lamps in Weasel camp. Olafsen lowered the glass. They just had to hope that the primary goal of the pounding - sowing chaos and confusion - would be reached.

"Let's not overdo this…", he murmured silently, looking again at the blazes flashing against the smoke. Somehow, Rasmus heard him over another thunder of the guns.

"How can you overdo something like this?", he asked, looking through his own spyglass. "The worse shape they'll be in, the better for our people!"

"Sure, but do you see those fires? I'd rather not send our men into some burning inferno."

After a moment, Rasmus nodded.

"Right. Two more rounds, I'd say?"

"Should be enough.", Jens agreed.

After another round, they've sent a messenger to reach artillery with orders to cease fire. Another runner went to infantry commanders. Jens nodded to himself and continued observation.

"Damn, I hate that part.", he heard Rasmus murmur.

"It figures you'd rather be out there in the front."

"Pff… Please. My colonels would call me an idiot and shove me back to headquarters if I dared."

Jens smiled a bit and started to answer, but another cannon blast cut through the air and shots whizzed by, ending their flight with boom. This time, something clearly exploded. Jens patted his ears.

"Well, somebody forgot to dig in his powder supply…", Rasmus murmured. "On the other hand, infantry should start moving in about now…"

"Let's hope they won't be caught in the fire.", Olafsen answered.

He watched his men climb up the Streams. From this distance, they looked like darker spots in gray canyons. By now, everybody had practice navigating and moving on slippery slopes, and the warmer temperatures only helped. Still, it seemed as if it was taking them eternity…

"Uh-uh… It seems the other guys have arrived…" Rasmus said, leaning forward.

Olafsen looked up and saw it, darker spots moving down, taking covers and blocking the paths of Arendellans.

"Well, let's hope they truly are starving by now…"

Fights broke out and soon the silence of the night was pierced by screams, flashed of shots and bangs of muskets, whizzes of crossbows and clangs of steel meeting steel. All over the line, Arendellans were slowed down, taking covers, returning fire and trying to strike at Weasels. Fights were breaking out in canyons and in-betweens, as one side tried to push another down and both tried to sneak up on each other. Men were screaming, shouting, bleeding and dying, but at this distance, it looked oddly clear. Dots made other dots stop moving. Other dots stopped and then flashed. Dots were running all over the place. The only thing betraying the truth behind this picture were the sounds, and even those appeared muffled.

It was an even fight, but only in the beginning. Once both sides ran out of ammunition, it was sword against sword, fist against fist. Weasels might be despaired and brave, but they were also starved and demoralized, and hungry enemy with no morale is weaker, no matter how many of him is there. Slowly but surely, Arendellan forces started to move forward, leaving behind dead, bleeding bodies in red and climbing up, towards the camp…

The camp that seemed to be burning. General Olafsen tried to see something, but there were clouds of smoke everywhere.

"We _did _overdo this.", he said, looking at Kristiani. "This is gonna get ugly in a moment."

"You don't say… Damn, I can't see anything of their camp!"

"Neither do I." Olafsen clenched his teeth and murmured, "Let's just hope boys up there can deal with it."

* * *

_High Table_

"Do you smell smoke?", general Berg asked, raising his head and turning it to feel the wind better. "I'd swear I smell it in the air."

Colonel Hansen, riding on the horse next to the general, narrowed his eyes and smelled the air.

"Well… yes, sir, I'd say there's smoke. Coming from… Weasel camp?"

"Unless the wind's being tricky, yes. Any of our men were scheduled to attack tonight?"

"Uhm…" Hansen scratched the bandage that held his broken hand in place. As he was temporarily out of action, Berg used him a bit as an aide, although Hansen still wasn't even close to Kai's level. But still, Kai was… well, Berg sighed, banishing the thought. At least he's out of harm's way.  
"No, sir. Nothing that I'd know of."

"Right…" Berg looked towards the Weasel camp, but he couldn't pierce the darkness that seemed to have swallowed the valley. Then he narrowed his eyes, because he was fairly sure that he _did _see something… a flicker, perhaps?

"Maybe it caught fire…", he said, half to Hansen and half to himself. "Or maybe Jens and Rasmus are moving."

"Wouldn't they risk that forces in Tampani will attack them from behind, sir?"

"If they believe they can hold them with only a part of their forces… And we ate Weasels' food, so they're probably right."

He looked at Hansen.

"Would you like a warm dinner tonight? Call everybody. We're moving towards the Weasel camp."

"Yes, sir!" The thought of _finally _eating hot food after days of icy cold meals seemed to fill the colonel with fresh energy.

* * *

An hour or so later the little Fourth Corps were moving in strength towards Weasels' camp, the injured and sick behind them. There were alarmingly many injured and sick there, and Berg seriously hoped that this flicker he saw, and kept on seeing, was Arendelle army attacking Weasels, and not just a camp fire that got out of control.

Scout commander rode to the general and stopped his horse before falling in step with Berg's .

"My men say the Weasels are pulling back from the camp. Nothing organized yet, but they're going in our direction."

"Great, so let's catch them." Berg turned to his commanders. "Spread our forces. Semicircle, to catch everybody who'd try to escape."

He quickly ordered who to which side, keeping Hansen's regiment with him, and officers rode off to work. Soon, the army started to spread around, like a net to catch all the fish scared by Jens and Rasmus into running… Berg nodded to himself, receiving messages about combat readiness from everybody.

Soon scouts started to report contact with enemy, and Berg checked if his sword leaves its sheath smoothly. He then summoned runners.  
"Tell everybody that if pressure is too high, just let Weasels through.", he said, and, seeing surprise in everybody's eyes, added quickly, "I'd rather not have entire regiments wiped out when we're so close."

A chorus of yes-sirs, and messengers rode off to pass the order. Berg looked back at the train of injured that followed the centre of the semicircle. Let's hope they won't try to break through here, he thought.

A moment later, he heard first shots, clangs and shouts. He pulled out his sword and moved closer to the front, part of him hoping to finally get a taste of battle after commanding his men from behind for so long. He looked to the side, but Hansen was smart enough to stay with the injured instead of trying to fight with a broken hand.

First rider jumped out of the darkness, closely followed by other three. Seeing Arendellans, they tried to stop their horses, but momentum carried them forward and Fourth Corps jumped to meet them. Berg grinned, raising his sword and kicking the horse to reach the first man, who barely parried the slash. Mountaineer grabbed his wrist with another hand. He squeezed hard enough for man to let go of the sword. Weasel tried to grab the knife with second hand, but Berg pierced him with his own sword and pushed off the horse. He then turned to where another raider tried to cut him, but he parried and another Arendellan finished the man from behind. Other raiders emerged from the darkness and Berged screamed in joy, finally _fighting_. Others picked up the primeval call and Arendellans clashed with Weasels like two hammers.

Chaos followed. In the darkness, there was only a moment of warning whether the uniform was white or red, and then Berg had to fight or change course. He almost cut another soldier, and was almost stabbed himself a moment later before the three of them found the right enemy. He parried a cut and punched the man in the gut, then slit his throat and turned to parry another sword, pushed with his blade, pulled out a knife, the man tried to cut again, Berg parried with a knife and cut with sword, pierced Weasel's hand with a knife, man screamed, Berg cut his hand off with a sword, man stumbled off the horse and Berg turned again.

The blow almost got him from behind, but the turn made it lose strength and instead of getting through, it slid down on the back plate. Berg turned to see him and parried the slash of what looked like ye olde claymore. In the darkness, he saw giant of a man who wielded it - _what is a Dark Ages sword doing here, anyway?_ \- and was nearly crushed by clash of their weapons. He kicked the horse and it jumped forward, finding a hole amidst chaos. Huge sword went down, but there was no body to stop it, kicking the giant off-balance and giving Berg the opening. He slashed the man's hand and the giant turned around, sword following his movement. Berg tried to duck, but leaned to far back and…

He cursed, falling off the horse, and turned back just in time to hit the ground. He pushed himself back and stood up, grabbing the sword. Giant on the horse loomed over him, ready to behead him. Berg, no little man himself, blocked the slash just in time, then jumped away and tried to cut the horse open. He didn't manage that, but got the saddle belt and leather let go easily. Horse stomped around, Berg jumped back and nearly bumped into somebody's horse. He turned around to see another red uniform ready to open his head. He blocked the cut, then pulled the man by his hand and pierced Weasel's neck. Blood gushed out, spraying on him, half blinding him…

_Bonggggg_, he staggered on his feet, huge sword hitting his helmet. Everything went dizzy. He turned around and blocked another shot, leaning back on terrified horse and slipping on the dead body. He fell back, hit something in the saddle, and everything seemed out of focus, the giant figure rose its sword again and Berg tried to bring his to bear, his arm seemed to move so slow… Another horse was coming, but it was hard to see through the haze that surrounded everything, the sword hit, sliding down, Berg braced himself, clenching his teeth, feeling his bones nearly break. The giant aimed for slice that would cut general's stomach open, he tried to defend himself, but when the claymore hit, it nearly sent him flying. He hit the ground, sword fell out of his hand, he rolled on his back, saw the giant, the horse and his rider were close, giant rose his sword to strike and kill him… Berg rolled, mud clearing blood in his eyes, but everything was hazy. The giant made a mistake and the claymore went too deep. Berg caught a sword - his? Dead man's? - and jumped to his feet, getting out of the way of another horse. The giant didn't notice this, trying to rip the sword out of the ground. He barely started turning, but this time, Berg was faster. The sword sliced the man's throat open and the giant fell to the ground, gushing blood like macabre fountain. Berg barely managed to take a breath when a kick hit his neck and he was sent forward, his vision hazy and dizzy and out of focus. He started to turn around, seeing sword ready to take him and knowing he won't be nearly quick enough this time…

He blinked, seeing the soldier's head fall off his arms. Behind him, man in white was on a horse.

"Sir! You there?"

"Doin' fine!", he said, pulling the dead body off the horse and climbing on the animal. It was harder than he remembered.

Finally up, he looked at the soldier who saved his life. The kid was just finishing off somebody else. Berg parried the slash aimed at the soldier and shook his head, trying to clear his sight. The kid looked at him.

"Sir, pull back! We'll handle that!"

He wanted to argue, but couldn't, so he tried to escape the fight. It wasn't easy. It seemed like everything was filled with men and horses and blood and flashes and clanks of swords. He had to defend himself a few times and by the time he escaped the fight, there was a huge cut on his forehead, but he didn't remember how it got there… He nearly fell off the horse before somebody caught him.

* * *

_Weselton camp_

Sun was rising slowly, shining on bloody remnants of the battle. It was nearly as bad as Jens feared it would be. Standing in the middle of what used to be Weasels' camp by Stone Streams, general Olafsen could feel the stench of burned wood, gunpowder and, worst of all, flesh filling the air all around him. Dead bodies lied all around, even though soldiers tried to carry them to give them something like a proper burial. Many died of sword or crossbow bolts, some even from musket shot, but almost as many, if not more, were burned or looked as if they were unharmed. The smoke, probably.

"I'm… kind of happy that most of those have red uniforms." Rasmus said quietly, standing next to Jens. Like everybody, he had a scarf wrapped around his face so that he wouldn't smell everything. Jens did so too, but the odor still found its way into general's mouth and nose.

"Me too.", he admitted. "We did take some prisoners."

"Pity we can't exchange them for any ours."

Jens nodded. So far, the nature of battles the fought had stopped anybody from taking prisoners. He also doubted that Berg or his opponents on the High Table took any.

On the High Table…

"Well, we made it.", he said a bit louder. "We're officially on the territory Weasels consider their own."

"Yaaay.", Kristiani said in emotionless tone. "You don't mind if I celebrate after this…" He looked around the bodies. "…will be cleaned up?"

"Sure. I'm just saying."

Rasmus nodded. Before he answered, a scout ran to them. He saluted briefly and said:

"Sir, we made contact with the Fourth Corps!"

* * *

"Hi. You look like shit.", general Kristiani stated, entering the tent.

"Thanks, Rasmus. Nice to see you too. At least you haven't changed in the slightest. Hi, Jens."

Rubbing the bandage on his head, Berg glared and Kristiani, who only shrugged. Olafsen sighed and passed Bjorn a cup of tea. Berg nearly spilled it, and then nearly burned himself in hurry to drink something hot. Finally, he breathed with what sounded a lot like ecstasy.

"Finally!" He looked at two other generals, who were eying each other with barely concealed smiles. "Hey, _you _try spending three weeks with nothing but ice cold water to drink!"

"We're not saying anything…" Jens stated slowly. "Anyway, how are you doing?"

"Seems like I've gotten myself a concussion. Nothing too serious, but I still see a bit hazy."

"So… not in shape for any ventures anytime soon?", Rasmus asked.

"Not really, and nor is the Fourth. You've got any plan?"

"You could call it like this, yes. The general idea is this: their only general right now, Windsor, is stuck in Tamapani trail, as you've cut him off and so far we're holding him from our side as well." Rasmus snapped his fingers. "So we take part of our forces and hit him from behind…"

"…hoping that our side will hold…", Jens added.

"…and finish him off before he can break out." Rasmus finished. "And if our side wouldn't hold, we keep part of our forces here, both up and down the Streams, to stop whatever he'd send towards Arendelle."

"Alright." Berg nodded, taking another sip, this time carefully. "So… I guess you're running off to kick Windsor's ass, and I'm staying here and keep an eye on things?"

"If it's not a problem for you."

"Why would it be?" Berg shrugged and drank a bit again. "I guess Streams aren't exactly horse-friendly?"

"Not really. So… can we take yours?" Olafsen asked.

"Feel free. I'll tell Hansen to give them to you." He blinked, trying to clear his vision, and remembered one more detail. "Oh, and I think it would be nice to send somebody towards the Rollinson Gate. Just in case."

"Don't worry. Will be done."

Berg nodded, enjoying the warm cup under his fingers.

* * *

_Rollinson Gate_

So, in the end, they did make Gardner go with them, as he supposedly knew the terrain. George could tell them a lot about the terrain, mostly that it was the same boring flat surface all over the place. Still, higher-ups commanded, so lieutenants obeyed, and so George Gardner found himself riding through the wide passage of Rollins Gate again, in front of a column of over two thousand cavalrymen.

He looked forward and shielded his eyes, seeing the sun slowly rising over the horizon. It seemed like a warmer day was coming, with clouds slowly moving away, making way for blue sky. Nice. Perhaps merchies wouldn't sneak up on Gardner like they had done before. Lieutenant lowered his eyes and patted Traveler on the neck.

"Alright, buddy. Time for round two."


	29. Chapter 29: Spying for dummies

_Weselton_

"Just what _exactly _do you think you're doing?", Kristoff asked with annoyance, looking down on Kai. Young major was gripping the windowsill, his knuckles white, staring at castle wall, insanely high cliff below it, and dark waves that were hitting it with audible cracks. He gulped.

"J-just looking. You know, it's… kind of… high here…"

Kristoff sighed.

"May I remind you that it was your idea to do this? Besides, there's a line wrapped around you waist, the other end of which is in my hands right now! All you have to do is to hold to it and avoid windows. What's the big deal?"

"E-easy f-for you to say…" Kai gripped the windowsill even stronger, feeling - to his panic - that his sweating fingers are starting to slide down. "I-it looked much l-less high when I l-looked at it f-from the inside…"

"Then don't look down! We've got something of a time limit here, so start going down or I'll push you!"

Kai looked up and realized with terror that Kristoff was more than ready to make good on his threat. Madsen swallowed and slowly started to let go of the windowsill. His treacherous fingers did the job for him, though, and he nearly squealed, falling down.

After a second, he covered his mouth with one hand and breather deeply. Finally, he opened his eyes. He was hanging perhaps twenty centimetres below the windowsill, the strung line hurting his back. Kristoff looked at him from above, and even with the glow from the room behind the mountaineer, Kai could see the man's sour expression.

"You see? It wasn't that bad."

"Uhm… no?"

"Great. Now, let's keep moving. We don't have all night for this."

Oh, right, Kai remembered. It was just the first step.

Over the past few days king Charles had been becoming increasingly hard to communicate with and Kai - as well as Kristoff and prince Eric - suspected that this was because he wanted to squeeze Arendellans more before giving them his terms of peace. One of such "squeezes" was the fact that whenever one of Arendellans wanted to go to their ship, they were diplomatically, but firmly told that the king would much rather they stayed in the castle - for their own security and other blah blah, effectively cutting them from their only mean of communication with Arendelle. Kai hadn't been happy about this and decided that it was about time somebody explained to king Charles that the ruler can't do everything he pleases. Major had come up with a plan to send the message to Her Majesty and therefore make the Arendelle ship leave Weselton on its own accord, which should bring Charles to heel, at least a bit. However, the message had to leave the castle first, and so the plan to sneak out was born.

Why Kai had decided to go with Kristoff was beyond him right now.

Actually… after some time, going down turned out to be rather easy. After Kristoff, having tied the line to himself as well, exited the room and started to climb down, Kai's only job was to push himself away from the wall and sometimes grab it and push himself so that he wouldn't fly in front of somebody's window. After some time, he even felt confident enough to grab the wall and ease the job for Kristoff, who so far had carried the weight of both Arendellans.

Of course, Kai's confidence couldn't last long. It ended along with the castle wall, as he slipped on smooth stone and lost his grip. He nearly squealed, dangled on the line and heard Kristoff puffing in surprise over him. Kai grabbed the line with both hands and looked up. Mountaineer looked back down on him.

"What was that?", Kristoff whispered.

"Castle ended. Stone is sort of slippery.", Kai answered with equally quiet voice.

"Well, it's stone. Of course it's slippery. Don't do this again!"

"O-okay…" Kai felt tempted to look down, but closed his eyes and decided not to. After a moment, he nearly squeaked again when he started moving down. He cautiously opened his eyes and looked at the smooth, gray cliff sliding in front of him as Kristoff was making his way down.

Hearing the hum and crack of the waves growing louder, Kai realized that Kristoff had already went under the castle and was somehow climbing down on the cliff. Where does he find foot- and handholds here?, Kai asked in his head. I sure don't see anything…

"Kai!", Kristoff gasped. "How far down is the bottom?"

Kai swallowed and looked down. A few meters below him, waves were hitting the cliff, sending the spray everywhere and cracking ominously. They gleamed in the light coming from Kai's left. When major looked that way, he saw the pier of royal port. The guards were standing far away, under one of the lamps, apparently blinded by it enough not to see two Arendellans on the cliff.

"So?!", Kristoff asked a bit louder. Kai looked up and whispered.

"Uhm, close! And you have to go to the left or we'll end up swimming! Also, guards!"

"Great…", he heard Kristoff grunt and after a moment, line jerked as the mountaineer started to move towards the pier. Waves hit and crashed repetitively into the wall, spraying Kai's boots with water and making his heart jump with every crack. At least the wind was almost absent, and the sky was clouded, masking two Arendellans… He looked down again, then up at Kristoff.

"Okay, we're over land…"

He looked back at two guards on the pier, but they were obviously more interested in their game of cards than any sort of intruders that would climb down the cliff. Kai figured not many people would have enough strength and skill to do this, much less carrying another person with him. What are mountaineers made of, he asked himself, steel? Well, that would explain how Kristoff can find holds on smooth wall, he's just punching holes in it… Kai nearly chuckled, but his laughter died when he felt wooden planks of the pier beneath his feet. He breathed with relief, and after a moment stood surely, then moved away to make place for Kristoff, grinning, feeling the solid ground - or at least _any _ground - once again. Mountaineer joined him a moment later and the two untied the line. Then they localized Arendelle ship and started to walk in its direction.

Creaks of wood under their feet finally alerted guards to their presence and the two Weseltonians stood up and approached Arendellans quickly. Recognizing the 'diplomats', they stopped.

"Uhm… I'm sorry, gentlemen, but at this time the port is closed…", one of them said. Kai took a breath and smiled to him.

"Well, the palace guard didn't stop us, so I figure we can be here."

While the first part of the sentence was most definitely true, the second… not so much. Still, it was a nice, diplomatic kind of lie. The guards looked at each other and nodded.

"Well… yes, your grace, I… guess.", the one who had spoken before said and let the Arendellans pass. As the two of them were approaching their ship, Kristoff leaned to Kai and murmured:

"Nice. You keep on doing this good and your father will dump you into diplomatic corps before you manage to say 'I don't want to'."

"I… think I'd rather not…"

"Hey, that could be nice training."

"For _what_?"

"You know, if he's still planning to marry you off to Elsa…"

Kai stopped as if he hit a wall, feeling his cheeks redden. He turned and glared at Kristoff, who seemed to be holding back laughter.

"Is it… really… I mean… come on! Is it really a good moment to remind me about it?!"

Kristoff just shrugged and resumed walking to the ship as if nothing happened. Kai wiped sweat off his forehead and caught up with him.

* * *

"So… I'm supposed to leave the port right now, in the middle of the night, and pass this message to Her Majesty?", the captain said cautiously.

"Yes, exactly.", Kai answered, nodding. "Can you do this, please?"

"Well, it depends on the wind…" The man looked around. "Anyway, I'll do my best and hope Weasels won't try to catch me."

"I don't think they would. Technically, diplomatic immunity still applies."

Something like a snort came from Kristoff's direction, but mountaineer said nothing.

"And what if you'll have to leave in hurry?", the sailor asked.

"We still have snow horses, and they can walk on water."

"Oh, right…" The captain didn't seem all too happy about this proof of Queen's magic - or sorcery - but if he had any doubts, he kept them to himself.

"Then I guess I'll start preparing the ship."

"Thank you, captain."

The man nodded and turned back, walking towards ship's quarters. Kai and Kristoff started to go off the vessel when they noticed somebody walking off another ship at the end of the pier. Kristoff narrowed his eyes.

"Looks like this spymaster guy to me…", he murmured and then squeaked when Kai yanked him down. "What the…?!"

"Hunter can't see us!", Kai whispered, hiding behind the ship's rails. "He'll raise alarm and we can forget about ship leaving the port!"

"Wasn't it you who said that diplomatic immunity still applies?"

"_Technically_."

"Ah, right." Kristoff raised his head a bit, so that only his hair and eyes were visible over the rail. "He seems not to care, though. He's got some papers in his hands and he's staring at them… He didn't even look at the guards… well, he passed us already."

"Okay." Kai stood up again and slowly walked off the ship, Kristoff right behind him. "I wonder what's in those papers…"

"Some spy report, I guess.", Kristoff answered equally quietly, keeping a few meters' distance from Hunter, who seemed oblivious to two Arendellans following him.

"I wish I knew what's in it…", Kai murmured. "I don't even know how the war's going."

"We'll ask Lee tomorrow."

Kai nodded and silence fell as the two of them followed Hunter up the hill. It seemed steeper now, when not on snow horse's back, but luckily, none of the Arendellans were in bad enough shape as to start puffing when they reached the top of the cliff. Kai was staring at Hunter's back, curious to no end about contents of the message. It's a pity we can't steal it from him, he though. Maybe father could pull out of it who's spying on us… He stopped as Hunter stopped. The Weseltonian folded the message and tucked it into his pocket, then resumed his march. Kai followed.

After a minute, Kristoff leaned to him.

"Kai, where are we going?"

Madsen blinked and looked around. Then he looked back. They passed the castle gate a while ago already, and now it seemed they were going along the wall towards… somewhere.

"I don't know. Let's find out."

Kristoff nodded, and then pulled Kai into some shadow as Hunter turned back. The spymaster looked around warily, but apparently decided that there wasn't anybody here, because he turned back and started to walk again.

"I don't know a thing about espionage, but he seems kind of sloppy for master of spies.", Kristoff whispered as two Arendellans started to follow him again.

"I bet he's been the spymaster for few years by now.", Kai answered. "He can't have many opportunities to practice his spy skills."

"True."

After a while, it turned out they were taking some narrow path between castle wall and massive slope of mountain behind the royal residence. Kai looked on the ground. Grass and mud seemed well-worn, to his worry. Either Hunter was taking this path often, or it was guarded. He looked up. Well, he told himself, let's just hope Hunter avoids the guards.

They emerged on the other side of the castle unbothered and Hunter started going downhill. Kai and Kristoff stopped, blinking, looking down at the city below and in front of them.

"What the…?", the latter asked, looking at the shore bathed in torchlight, ships, endless activity and darkened, calmer houses further away from the sea. Kristoff shook his head.

"That's the city of Weselton, right? He's going there, why?"

"No idea. Let's go before we lose him."

They followed Hunter downhill. The road was paved with stone, so two Arendellans walked on the side of it, in the mud, to remain silent, but as they came closer to the city, they had to walk on the road again, and hope that the noises of night life would drown the sounds of two pairs of shoes.  
They seemed to be lucky with that. Despite the late hour, streets were all but empty. People were walking, carrying crates and supplies to bars and shops, others were running on late errands, ladies of doubtful repute walked among them, fanning themselves and glancing invitingly at passing men, dogs were looking for some food, drinkers were walking - or staggering - from pub to pub, everyone seemed to be talking, music and singing could be heard from one window, loud argument was changing into a fight behind one door, somebody was throwing somebody else out of a bar…

It was hard to follow Hunter in this flurry of human activity and after a moment, Kai gave up and decided to rely on Kristoff. Tall mountaineer stood a head higher than most people and seemed to see Hunter. Avoiding a fight that moved from pub to the street, he pulled Kai behind him to some side alley where a lonely man sat under the wall, empty bottle in his hand. Kai saw Hunter, disappearing at the end of the alley, and followed, stepping carefully over the drunk, Kristoff right behind him. They emerged to another street again and Kai looked to the right, searching the crowd for any sight of Hunter.

"Can you see him?", he asked Kristoff.

"No… no… oh, wait. I think that's him." He started to walk and Kai followed him.

"What is he doing?", he asked.

"Talking with somebody by the entrance of some pub."

Kai nodded, following Kristoff and avoiding eyes of a woman with way too much make-up and fan in attention-catching colour. He nearly blushed when she blinked to him and she waved her fan invitingly, he stumbled, hitting Kristoff in the back.

"Watch out… Great, where is he?"

"Uhm… sorry. Maybe he came in?"

"Let's hope so…"

The pub was called _The Red Boar_. Kai and Kristoff entered without any trouble, but standing in the door-frame, major felt shiver running down his spine and his fingers tingling, as if they wanted to grab a sword. He looked around. _Red Boar _was smelling of smoke, beer and sweat, plunged into half-darkness, with bartender who was missing part of his ear and tables and walls that looked as if they had taken a lot of beating before. The people crowding the bar, sitting by the tables, playing cards, drinking and glancing warily at the new arrivals were clearly not the society's finest. Scarred, tattooed, clearly beaten, clearly very dangerous. Kai wished he hadn't left his knife back in room in the castle.

"Well, seems like your classic bad-guy bar", Kristoff whispered to his ear. "Let's find a table or something, people are starting to stare."

It seemed to Kai like all tables were taken already, but finally the Arendellans managed to find one in the corner. They say by it and mountaineer scanned the place.

"Don't know about you, but I can't see him."

Kai did the same, stretching his neck a bit.

"I can't see anybody as well. Uhm… have you got any money? I think the waitress got interested in us."

"Oh. Wait…" Both men searched their pockets and finally came up with a tiny collection of small change and a single silver coin which Kai hid immediately, just in case.

"Well… maybe it'll be enough for two _very _small beer…" Kristoff said dubiously, looking at the small coins. Kai shrugged, looking around.

"Maybe we could try to win something in cards?"

"With those dudes?" Kristoff shook his head, looking at the closest table of players. "We'd regret winning."

"Right…"

Waitress approached them and eyed the pile of coins with dubious look.

"Two small ale, if you might?", Kristoff said, smiling. She nodded and left.

"I hope she won't mind your accent.", Kai murmured.

"Kai, it's a bad-guy bar. I bet Arendellans in times of war are small potatoes to what she usually sees here."

"'Bad-guy bar'? What kind of term is that?"

"Fitting."

"Great." Kai looked around, but couldn't disagree. Somebody close to him started to smoke and he nearly coughed, feeling tobacco stench fill the air. Kristoff winced but didn't say anything. Kai shook his head and asked:

"How are we going to find Hunter now? If he's not anywhere in the bar…"

"Well… oh, I have an idea. Give me that silver coin."

"Okay… why?"

When the waitress returned to them with two small glasses of beer, she immediately noticed the coin with which Kristoff was playing.

"Can I help you anymore?", she asked, collecting the payment for the beer.

"Well, yes.", Kristoff smiled to her a bit. "We're looking for a man here, you see. Tall, slim, dark hair, manicured fingers. Dressed in brown coat. Have you seen him here, perhaps?"

Oh, I don't believe it, Kai thought, inhaling slowly. _That_'s his genius plan? Why would she tell us?

The waitress looked at Kristoff suspiciously, then at the coin.

"Perhaps… and why are you looking for him?"

Aaand here this idea dies, Kai thought to himself. He was apparently wrong, though, as Kristoff winced and said:

"He owes us money."

To Kai's infinite surprise, it worked.

"Ooh. Oh, boy." The waitress rubbed her chin and indicated the stairs next to the bar. "He went up to talk with Old Rick. He's Drachner's man, so I wouldn't interrupt if I were you."

"Ah, alright. Thank you." Kristoff snapped his fingers and the coin landed in waitress' hands. The woman smiled and left. Kai nodded, looking at mountaineer.

"Nice. Maybe after we'll come back, I'll tell father to borrow you when he needs some spying done."

"Great, just what I wanted…" Kristoff sighed and looked at the stairs, taking a sip of his beer. "Hey, that's good… Anyway, what do we do now?"  
He glanced at Kai.

"Why are we even here, anyway?"

"Because we wanted to know what Hunter is doing… I wonder who this Drachner guy is…", he added in a whisper.

"It seems the waitress expected us to know. More, I bet everybody here knows."

"So what, do you intend to ask them as well?"

"Nah, we're out of money. So what do we do, drink and wait until he leaves?"

Kai bit his lip. I all honesty, he didn't know what to do. He had followed Hunter because he had been curious, but now it turned out the man had some dealings with criminal world. Was it of any interest to Arendellans? Kai's father probably kept contact with smugglers and the likes of them in Arendelle as well, if only to help him with his official job. Hunter's visit to this Drachner was probably simply something routine…

He had gone here right after getting this message - spy report or whatever it was. That probably meant that the message and the man were somehow connected, so it would probably be wise of Kai to check out.

"No… let's find out what Hunter and this Old Rick are talking about."

"Fantastic, and how do we get past this giant who's watching the stairs?"

"Uhm…" Kai stretched his neck and looked at the huge man leaning on the wall next to the stairs. "We exit and try to enter from behind?"

"Don't you think that if there is this man standing in the front, there will also be one watching the back?"

"True… But it's still worth a try, and less 'bad guys' to fight if things go wrong."

Kristoff sighed, but finished his beer quickly and followed Kai out of _The Red Boar_.

* * *

In fact, there was a back exit. Unfortunately, as Kristoff predicted, there was a man standing in front of it. He had a huge bat in his hands and he obviously knew what to do with it. His small eyes were wary, and he looked around in irregular intervals, scanning the area.

"Change of the watch must've happened recently.", Kristoff murmured, looking from behind the corner. "Or he's so alert all the times, in which case he isn't human."

"Bad for us… You think we could knock him down?"

Kristoff looked at Kai with disbelief.

"Seriously? What if he calls support?"

Kai shrugged, looking up at the mountaineer.

"Then we run. Come on, let's give it a try. If it won't work out, nothing happens."

"Yeah, sure.", Kristoff murmured, looking at the bat the man was swinging around. He wanted to tell Kai that the idea is idiotic, but to his terror, the major already started to go in man's direction. "You're worse than Anna!", Kristoff murmured under his breath and followed him quickly, ignoring the pang of worry for the princess.

The watchman saw Kai and stood up, grasping his bat stronger.

"Hey, you! This entrance's closed, so outta my sight."

"Eh… no.", Kai said and kicked.

The kick was powerful and aimed at rather fragile place, not to mentioned that the watchmen didn't _quite _expect a fight from someone two heads shorter. Surprised, he let out a gasp and curled a bit, then started to shout, trying to aim the bat at Kai. Kristoff was faster. He jumped to the man and covered his mouth before scream escaped it, pushing him on the wall and kicking him with a knee in the stomach. Kai grabbed the bat and ripped it out of man's hands, then took a swing and hit him over the head with it. Watchman's eyes rolled and the man slumped to the ground.

"Thanks.", Kristoff murmured. "Now let's hope nobody saw this."

They waited a moment, but it seemed that the short fight didn't alarm anyone. Kai nodded and Kristoff pulled the body into the deepest shadow. Then the two of them approached the door. To their joy, they weren't locked. Kristoff raised his eyebrows, pushing them slowly.

"Open. Seriously?"

"Well, you can't expect watchmen to look for the key when he needs a toilet break.", Kai noted with a ghost of a smile.

Kristoff nodded and entered the place, carefully looking around. It was dark, but it seemed no one was hiding in the shadows, ready to strike at two Arendellans too smart for their own good. To his right, there were stairs leading up and down. Hearing Kai entering and closing the door behind him, Kristoff slowly walked up, wincing as he heard the wood creak under his feet. Alright, chill. You've already beaten up one of the guards…

Upstairs, there wasn't anybody. Kristoff slowly started to walk down the corridor, listening by the doors. Finally, he heard something. He waved to Kai to hurry and listened.

"…disappeared! Just what was Drachner _thinking_?!" That was clearly Hunter, Kristoff heard him before. But who was he talking about? Who had disappeared?

"I don't think Drachner's business is your business.", cold voice answered him. Must be this Old Rick guy, Kristoff thought.

"Oh, really? Kidnapping of Arendelle heiress is not my business?!"

He's talking about _Anna_? Kristoff's eyes widened in shock. Whoever Drachner was, he had kidnapped Anna… His blood went hot and he clenched his teeth, forcing himself to listen.

"Do you imagine what will merchies think?!", Hunter kept on ranting. "Look, I'm aiding you with Drachner's plans, but this is _not _what I agreed on!"

"You think he cares about your feelings? Drachner has more on his head than you, so stop panicking! She's not even in Weselton!"

So where?, Kristoff asked. Come on, you bastard, tell me where my Anna is!

"I don't care where she is! She can be in Far East and I wouldn't mind! What I care about is that this goddamn witch queen of theirs will think that it's us who kidnapped her!"

"So what? She'll continue the war, just as you want."

"Yes, but I do _not _want her to freeze me and my country, for hell's sake!"

Old Rick chuckled. Kristoff felt himself clenching his fists and breathe heavily. You bastard, you know where she is!

"Don't worry, mister Hunter. Once the truth comes out, nobody will suspect Weselton, and I'm sure you'll be more than happy about the results."

"Like hell I will!", Hunter screamed and Kristoff barely moved away from the door before they bumped open and furious spymaster exited, going to the main stairs. He didn't even notice crouching Arendellans. Kristoff stood up with clenched fists. He wanted to catch Hunter, pin him to the wall and get answers out of him, but before he could move, he felt Kai's hand on his shoulder. Right. He doesn't know anything. But there is someone who does…

And he'll _speak_.

Kristoff stormed into the room, standing face to face with some bloke. He didn't care. He punched the man in the throat, then in the stomach, then thrown him to the table, where the man hit the edge. Having him out of the way, Kristoff looked at small, bald man behind him. He grabbed him by his neck, pulled him up, then hit the wall with him, leaning closer. The man's feet dangled in the air and Old Rick looked in Kristoff's eyes with fear.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Not your business!", Kristoff growled. "I'm the one to ask questions here, so you better answer!"

Old Rick swallowed, and Kristoff leaned even closer.

"Where. Is. Princess. Anna?!"


	30. Chapter 30: Conspiracies

_Weselton_

"Where. Is. Princess. Anna?!" Kristoff growled, shaking the body of Old Rick with each word. Kai swallowed, standing at the door and looking at bodyguard Kristoff had just trashed. He looked at the mountaineer again and decided it would be prudent not to interfere.

"What… makes you think I'd tell you?", the bald man asked, although terror was clearly audible in his voice.

"You're going to tell me or I'll gut you, you bastard!" Kristoff screamed. Kai swallowed again.

"Y-you don't have a knife…" Old Rick noted.

"Your worthless excuse of a bodyguard has!", Kristoff said. "Kai, give me his knife! I'm going cut this piece of trash open!"

Major decided it actually would be a good time to interfere.

"Are you sure gutting is the best option? I mean… you know…"

"So I'll keep off cutting parts of his body until the bastard starts to talk!"

"Uhm…" Kai tried to oppose the idea, but then Kristoff glared at him, and… Well, when such a glare comes from such a big man - especially one that is usually quite calm… Kai started to search for the knife. Old Rick opened his eyes wider.

"No, no, no, no, no, you don't have to do this, I'll talk!"

Kristoff narrowed his eyes and the man started to panic.

"I swear, I swear, I swear!"

Kristoff's answer was to let go of man's neck and Old Rick slumped on the ground. Kristoff pulled himself a chair. Kai looked outside, but it seemed that screaming, panicked people were commonplace in _The Red Boar_, because nobody seemed interested in what was going on. He closed the door, then, and leaned on the wall, looking at Old Rick. Kristoff seemed to have gotten hold of himself, seeing how he managed not to clench his fists.

"So.", he said. "If you're talking, I'm listening."

"Yes, yes, yes… Right…" Old Rick took a breath and continued, "Drachner… Drachner ordered me to have her kidnapped."

"Who's Drachner?", Kai asked.

"Drachner, he's… the boss. _The _boss. I mean, all around the Inner Sea every smuggler pays him his due, everyone works for him…"

"Every?" Kai wasn't quite convinced.

"Well… Almost." Old Rick swallowed. "But most of them do, and everybody else is small fish compared to Drachner."

"Why did he order the kidnapping?", Kristoff asked, in voice that one might, having seen his previous explosion, call calm.

"A-a-I don't know! He didn't tell me, I didn't question! You don't question Drachner! He tells you to jump, you jump, he tells you to kidnap princesses, you go and kidnap goddamn princesses!"

Kristoff looked like he wanted to start shaking answers out of the man again, so Kai decided to ask currently more important question.

"Where is she, then?"

Old Rick looked at Kai.

"Well, I don't know where she is now…"

Is he suicidal?, Kai asked in his head, glancing at Kristoff, whose concern for his girlfriend was apparently manifesting as shrieking fury again.

"Where was she _supposed _to go?", major asked quickly.

"The… The Southern Isles."

Both Arendellans blinked and looked at each other.

"Hans hired him?", Kristoff asked with sudden worry in his eyes.

"He's under house arrested, as far as I know…" Kai looked at Old Rick. "Where in the Southern Isles?"

"K-Koenigsberg…"

"Koe-where?", Kristoff asked, baffled.

"It's their capital.", Kai told him and returned to the old man, who tried to stand up on shaky legs. "So, is she there already?"

"I don't know!"

"Don't play an idiot, it's your ship and you don't know anything?", Kristoff snapped.

"I mean… I haven't gotten any information yet!"

"And when should you get it?", Kai asked.

"A… a few days ago…"

Kristoff's fury was completely gone by now, replaced with absolute worry. Kai looked at Old Rick, but the man obviously didn't know anything else. Now, what should Kai and Kristoff do? They had to find Anna somehow…

Not really. First and foremost, we have to negotiate peace with Weselton, he reminded himself. He could send message to father, as baron had to know about this Drachner… oh, damn it, the ship had probably left by now. But still, their primary task here were negotiations…

"Kristoff, let's go.", he told him. "He won't tell us anything more, and it's about time we returned to the castle."

Kristoff clenched his teeth, then nodded.

"Alright. But first… give me the key to this room."

* * *

Having left _The Red Boar _and the locked room with Old Rick and his still unconscious bodyguard inside, two Arendellans started to trot uphill, towards the castle. When they finally left the city, Kai turned to Kristoff.

"I hope to catch up with the ship before it leaves.", he told him. "I'll tell father to look into Drachner, he should find Anna then."

"Thanks, but I don't think we'll make it in time." Kristoff picked up speed and Kai followed suit.

"I know, but otherwise we'll have to wait until it returns… I know!", Kai said and nearly stumbled on some badly fitted cobble. Kristoff caught him before his face met the ground and Kai continued, "Snow horse! I'll write the message and catch up with the ship on the snow horse!"

"Nice, only they'll have to let you out of the castle again first…"

They slowed down by the castle gates. The guardsman at the entrance looked at them in surprise.

"Your graces? I thought you were…"

"We weren't.", Kristoff cut him. "Let us in."

"I think…"

"Now, if you were so kind.", Kai added, feeling the clock ticking in his head.

"I shouldn't…"

"_Now._", Kristoff added with exasperation.

"Oh, alright…" The guardsman, obviously out of his depth, opened one gate of the door for them.

"Don't close them!", Kai said upon entering, "I'll be leaving in a moment!"

"I don't think you should, your grace…", the man started to say, but Kai had already left.

Kai looked around dark courtyard, thinking. Where were the stables? Were the snow horses even in the…

"Here!", he heard Kristoff whispering loudly and went in the direction of huge door. Upon entering, his nose was attacked by wave of hay and other equine smells, as well as incredible coldness. Horses seemed to be shivering, looking uneasily in one direction. Kai followed their line of sight and saw the two snow horses, their personal snow clouds giving them a slightly comical appearance. Kristoff was already by their side, untying the line that held one of them. He glanced at Kai.

"And what are you going to write this letter on?", he asked.

"Oh… I'll add it as PS to letter to father?"

"Right.", he patted the snow horse on the neck and winced when the creature didn't react. "Then go."

Kai jumped on the horse and gave the animal a slight kick.

"Oh, come on!", he said when it barely started to walk. "Look, I have to get to the royal port as fast as possible, and king Charles will most probably try to stop me, so gates might close any minute now…"

The snow horse turned to look at him and Kai would swear it nodded. Then he yelped and grabbed its neck as it suddenly jolted out of the stable and took a sharp turn, the gates were being closed, Kai hid his face in icy, maneless neck of the horse as it run forward nevertheless… He started to shiver from the cold…

Then he realized he can't hear the tramp of hooves on the ground. He looked up and gasped.

The doors were closed… And the horse created itself a snowy, steep path leading _over _the castle walls. Kai looked down and managed to notice somebody staring in shock, and then snow horse's icy hooves hit the top of the castle wall. The animal started to gallop down. Kai turned around and noticed the path melting behind them, still somehow keeping them in the air. Horse landed on the ground and Kai grabbed its neck again, looking forward. Creature turned towards the royal port and jumped, taking similar shortcut as before to land on the path leading to the pier. Then, without further ado, it started to gallop forward. Jumping up and down on its back, Kai shielded his eyes - the cloud was snowing on him - and looked at the port and behind, searching for the ship… Yes! It was still in the bay, although only lights were visible.

"Right, buddy, you've got some super-speed mode, right? Can you_aaaaah_!" The last one was caused when suddenly snow horse picked up speed, nearly throwing Kai off, and major held on to its neck for dear life. Everything around him blurred, and he barely registered two surprised guards jumping away.

"Sorry!", he called but he was on the sea already and the ship was growing closer, and closer, and closer…

"Slow down, slow down!"

And it did, fast enough that he nearly fell over its neck. Kai grabbed it even stronger and breathed heavily for a the next minute or so as the snow horse trotted - cheerfully, he'd swear - next to the ship.

"Uhm… baron Madsen. Forgot something?", he heard the captain next to him. He looked to his right. The sailor was looking at him and the snow horse with mixture of worry and barely concealed amusement. Kai managed a weak smile.

"Well, yes… I have to add something to one of the messages…"

* * *

Prince Eric was looking out of the huge window in castle's corridor, watching Kai and his… 'snow horse'… return to the castle. The weird creature of the queen of Arendelle - witch queen of Arendelle, he heard among the servants - sent a shiver down his spine that had nothing to do with temperature. It was just that… there was something unnatural about it, plain and simple.

He watched as baron Madsen got off the horse and started to dust and shake snow off himself as the snow horse, apparently on its own accord, walked into the stable which prince Kristoff opened for it. The two Arendellans then started to talk with each other, walking into the castle, apparently unbothered by the creature, although baron's legs seemed to be shaking. Eric finally turned away from the window and leaned on the wall, folding his arms.

He had been woken up by some odd sound, and realized, upon opening his eyes, that Margaret is not in bed with him. Surprised, Eric had left his room, looking for her, but the search had been suspended when he had seen that Arendellan ship is missing, and that Kai's riding at some impossible speed on this snow horse thing. But now both Arendellans were back in the castle, and matter that pulled Eric out of his bed was still valid - where was his wife?

He decided to return to the room, hoping that it was just some minor thing that had made Margaret leave it. On the way, though, he met one of the servants.

"Mary, good… hm, evening. Did you see Margaret?"

Young cleaner rubbed back of her neck, thinking.

"Yes, my lord. She passed me a few minutes ago, when I was going upstairs, on the side staircase."

"Thank you." He gave the girl a smile and picked up speed, going to the small staircase which servants and people who didn't want to announce their presence to everyone used. Mary had been going upstairs, so Margaret had been going down. Where to? Counting basements, there were still three floors below this one…

He was going down the narrow, circular staircase, when he nearly bumped into colonel Hunter. The two men backed off, eying each other. There was no love lost between them, especially after the war started and Hunter became staunch ally of "let's continue it" approach. Nevertheless, Eric decided to ask.

"Oh. Sorry. Did you see Margaret?"

"Most definitely not.", the spymaster answered harshly and flattened himself against the wall to let the prince pass. Eric kept on going down until he made sure Hunter started to walked again, and then stopped, thinking. What was the spymaster doing here, so late? He lived in the castle, sure, but his room was on the ground floor, a floor below where Eric was now. What made Hunter go here at this hour?

Eric decided to check. He turned and followed the footsteps until he stopped hearing them, then entered the next floor. He hid quickly as Hunter turned around, and waited until he heard the sound of polished boots hitting the wooden floor again. Then he looked around the corner, just in time to see Hunter enter one of the rooms on the port side. Eric slowly crept to it and looked through the key hole, but apparently Hunter had left the key inside. Nevertheless, there was still a small space on the bottom of the door, where it didn't quite met the floor. He went to his knees, took off his glasses and pressed his face to the floor, listening.

"…tells me I can't do a damn thing about it!", Hunter was ranting. "Just tell me, please - did you know he was going to do something like this?"

"He's not telling me his business secrets, you know." Eric's eyes went wide as he realized he found his wife. So… the message she had sent before… was it addressed to Hunter? They were working together? What were they doing?

"Argh! I just… Hell, I could use a little _warning_! Why would he do this, anyway?"

"He complained that Elsa and her… gift is problematic to him. Perhaps he wants to use Anna as a hostage."

'He' must be Drachner, Eric thought. Kidnapping Arendelle heiress… He'd actually do this… Well, I guess that's something prince Kristoff would like to know about, Eric thought and listened on.

"Oh, great. I'd just like to know where is she, so that I won't have any bad surprises."

"I can write to him, but it could take some time before he answers, _if_ he answers. Still, for all we know, she could be in Tampera Capitaleh and I don't see how it influences our plans."

Our plans… Eric gritted his teeth and listened.

"Depends whether merchies will accuse us of kidnapping or not."

"That would only add fuel to the war, wouldn't it?"

They… they actually want the war to continue? Are they crazy?

"Perhaps. Or it would end with Weselton bay and us frozen to death."

I didn't expect Hunter of all people to show some reason, Eric thought.

"Don't worry. I have my ideas and if all goes right…"

"Because it all goes right so often!"

"Don't interrupt me. Besides, what went wrong so far?"

"This stupid kidnapping."

"We don't know if it's stupid yet. You know him. He has his own plans."

"Yes, and that's what worries me. We can't control him."

"Of course we can't, he's smuggler king. He serves money, not governments."

"Can we pay him, then?"

Silence fell. Eric blinked, thinking. What was Margaret planning? How could she stop furious Elsa from ending the war - and, along with it, Weselton? And what was Drachner's scheme? Too many problems, way too many… Margaret spoke, cautiously.

"If everything goes right… then yes, soon we can make him work for us."

"That would be nice, although I can already imagine the prices…"

Margaret chuckled. What was she thinking about?! At this moment, Eric would give everything for a chance to see Margaret's mind and thoughts. Why couldn't it be like in those books where villains start to gloat whenever the hero's nearby?

Did I just think about Margaret as a villain?, he asked himself.

Yes, I did. Yes, she is. She wants to prolong the war and profit from it, so for now… yes, she's a villain.

This should break my heart, he realized and it worried him, because his heart seemed perfectly fine.

Margaret and Hunter, oblivious to his thoughts, kept on talking. He blinked and returned to listening.

"…a few days. They'll probably send the message to our diplomats here and then you can step into action… and all will be lovely."

"'Lovely'? Most definitely…" The way Hunter spoke those three words made Eric very uneasy. They weren't scary, or threatening… He gritted his teeth again, knowing this tone. The prince himself used in, in first years of his marriage, usually at night…

"Well, you're getting unfocused." And he heard Margaret speaking like this before. But so far, only to him. Only to him…

"My lady, I can't spend too much time with you and stay focused… And night's still young …"

She chuckled again.

The next sounds made him back off from the door in mixture of fury and disgust with his wife… His scheming, cheating wife… He clenched his fists, staring at the door and shaking with rage… and somehow not finding enough resolve to enter this room and end this. To push the knife between that bastard Hunter's shoulders… Or better yet, strangle him. That would be much more satisfying, and he wouldn't have to look for a knife… Eric pressed his fists to his temples, trying to make himself stand up, enter there and punch the bastard until he'd whimper for mercy…

And yet there was a treacherous whisper in the back of his head. You can't fight at all… He'd destroy you in seconds… Besides, the door is most likely locked… And what would you do with Margaret?

Finally he couldn't stand it. He stood up and left quickly, feeling like a coward.

He didn't know where to go. Not to his room, this room filled with Margaret's things, clothes, little gifts she masked her cheating with… How long had it been going on? Months? Years? Ever since they were engaged? No, at least not so long, Hunter hadn't been anybody back then… Eric turned sharply away from his room. Where could he go? Empty salons? His father? No, what would he say? He couldn't admit that his wife was cheating on him. That would be… embarrassing. Worse than embarrassing. So where? Kitchen? No, what would he do? It was empty now. Stables? Where those creatures were?

I still have to tell Kai and Kristoff about princess Anna's kidnapping and that Margaret… he breathed heavily until he calmed down… is planning something. Right. Let's go there.

* * *

"So… princess Margaret has some plan to stop Her Majesty from… retaliating on Weselton for princess Anna's kidnapping… or death?", Kai asked slowly, looking across the table at prince Eric. They were sitting in Arendellans' room. Weselton's heir apparent looked terrible and he was finishing the bottle Kai put on the table already, which didn't bide well for the future. There was obviously more than he was telling, but Kai decided not to push it.

"Yes, it seems so. I'm afraid I don't have many ideas about what it could be." Eric said, pouring what was left in the bottle into the glass. He looked at the golden liquid and then up at Kai again. "Sorry."

"No offense taken." Kai glanced and Kristoff, standing behind the armchair Eric was sitting on. Mountaineer nodded, so Kai continued. "As it happens, we've… let's say we've found out that princess Anna was kidnapped by this Drachner and that she's on her way to Koenigsberg."

"If nothing happened to the ship on the way…", Kristoff murmured, worried.

"Let's hope nothing did.", Eric answered, smiling reassuringly a bit. "But why Koenigsberg? This Drachner… Felix Drachner… he lives in Isenberg, that's in Confederacy."

"I've got no idea", Kai admitted, "and obviously neither Hunter nor your wife knows either."

He rubbed his temples and decided he could drink a bit as well. He pulled out another bottle from king Charles' supplies and poured himself and Eric. Kristoff just shook his head.

"Well, we know Anna isn't here, and Kai wrote as much in his message to Elsa…", he started.

"But Margaret doesn't know about it.", Kai noted. "So… she's planning something."

Kristoff raised one eyebrow.

"No offense, but… this isn't really hard to guess."

"So enlighten us!" Eric snapped. He sighed and shook his head. "Sorry. Too much… things…. Soooo, what are you thinking about?"

Kristoff shrugged uneasily.

"Well, the best way would be to… you know. Disable her. Permanently."

Kai blinked, processing what the mountaineer said.

"You mean… regicide."

"Yeah… been a while since someone tried that on Elsa."

Kai gasped, leaning back and thinking. He didn't like where his thoughts were going.

"Regicide… yes, if they could pull it off… You know, Her Majesty isn't the most popular ruler by a long shot, but it would… And if it turned out Weseltonians did this… Holy hell."

Eric downed another glass without a word.

* * *

_Arendelle_

After the Great Freeze had turned Queen Elsa's ice powers into something of a public thing, the ever-undermanned Arendelle castle started to hire more workers, as they didn't have to keep anything secret anymore. Baron Madsen's people were scanning every new person, but there was a limit to capabilities of even the best espionage system. Three people managed to slip through the sieve undetected, two man and one woman. One of them became palace guardsman and was spending a lot of time by the main gate. Another became a cook, although it would still be a long time before he could cook for the queen. The last of them was a cleaner, tasked with washing pillows, quilts and curtains. To the outside world, it looked as if the trio met each other in the castle and somehow became acquaintances. However, they knew each other before, back in Confederacy, where they've been hired by somebody else.

All three of them had already finished their day's jobs and decided, as they told their co-workers, to relax in one of portside cafes. Having found a table in the corner, the three of them ordered hot chocolate - increasingly popular drink here in Arendelle, for some reason - and sat down. One of the men, the cook, had his hand around woman's waist and the cleaner was sitting on his lap. Guardsman didn't question, although he was generally adverse to getting personal with one's professional colleagues. Feelings were rather problematic if one had to work against one-time lover in the future.

"So…", he started after the waitress put three cups on the table and left. He pointed at the cook. "I'm still waiting for you to give me opportunity to get close."

"Don't worry.", the cook answered him. "I already have a poison in place, I just have to work out how to give it only to the man you're supposed to replace. Otherwise it could rise suspicions."

"Well, you did prove to be somewhat sloppy cook sometimes.", the woman noted, putting her cheek on cook's head. "It'd be believable that you've managed to give food poisoning to an entire group."

"That would end up with me getting kicked out.", he noted.

"You don't have to worry about that.", the guardsman said. "Your only concern is making way for me. After they kick you out, run for the hills so that they won't catch you."

"I know… Still, that leaves us with one option less if you fail."

Guardsman nodded. He was way too seasoned killer to get angry at suggestions that he might not succeed in his job. He pointed at the woman.

"If I won't make it, your lovebird can finish the job."

The woman smiled, taking a sip of the chocolate. The cook nodded.

"Well, on the bright side, with so many people sick, you should be the obvious choice as a replacement in her personal watch. I'll try it tomorrow evening, so get yourself ready."

The guardsman nodded.

The trio finished their drinks and the guardsman left the bar, leaving his two colleagues to their own devices. He reached his house - a rent place, on the outskirts of the city, whose landlady didn't ask too many questions - and walked up to his place. He looked around and ducked under his bed to bring out a bag that could get him arrested, was it found. If he was indeed to become one of queen's personal guardsmen, he'd live in the castle, so he had to make sure he had his tools with him.

He spread is collection on the bed and begun to choose which of the countless knives, darts, blades and needles he'd take with him.


	31. Chapter 31: The grand offensive

_Westerguard_

Kai was walking around the room, rubbing his temples.

"We have to warn Her Majesty…", he started.

"You sent your ship away a few hours back.", prince Eric reminded him sourly, still sitting by the table and looking through the amber-colored bottle.

"You can try to catch up with it on Frosty again.", Kristoff said. Kai raised his eyebrows.

" '_Frosty_'?"

Kristoff shrugged.

"Gotta call them somehow. Anyway, you think you could catch up with it?"

"Perhaps…"

"Provided they'd let you into the stables in the first place.", Eric murmured. "In all honesty, I have my doubts about that. Father sure isn't going to let you slip out like this again."

"You know, Kai's father and Elsa both described 'diplomacy' as being rather different from what your father's practicing."

"He simply doesn't feel like he has to play fair." Eric shrugged, finishing another glass.

"Still, the prince is right.", Kai said, stopping by the wall, turning and leaning on it. "After 'Frosty' walked over the castle wall like this, the king will just flat out lock down the stables to stop us from getting to the snow horses."

"And even if we did manage to get to them, by then it would probably be too late to start running towards the ship…", Kristoff said. "I mean, I'm sure we'd eventually get to Arendelle…"

"But it would look like we're running away.", Kai finished, sour.

If only I had waited with sending the ship for the next night, he scolded himself. It seems like only tonight we're getting any useful information…

"Hey", Kristoff said suddenly, "I wonder, could Frosty or the other snow horse…"

"Snowy?", Eric suggested, spinning the drink in his glass.

"Maybe, anyway: you think Frosty or Snowy could bring the message to Elsa by themselves?"

Kai blinked in surprise. That… Well, 'Frosty' had reacted to Kai's words when major had told it what to do. Perhaps it could bring message to the Queen as well? After all, snow horse should be able to home on its creator.

"That's… a good idea, actually. I think it would work."

Kristoff smiled a bit, but Eric sighed in depressed way.

"You're forgetting that you still have to get to the stables to give this creature the message. Not to mention that it's made of snow, so you have to find something waterproof."

"I have a metal pen case.", Kai offered. "If we remove material from the inside, message should fit."

"Great, that still leaves the problem of who will…", Eric stopped and looked suspiciously at Kai and Kristoff. "I have a feeling that you'll ask me for a favor in a moment, won't you?"

Kristoff shrugged.

"Well, if you're asking… would you do us a favor?"

* * *

_Around Tampani Trail_

_Chk_! Soren Nexø winced as bullet hit the rock over his head, spraying shower of gravel on him. He checked his own musket and dared a quick glance at the battlefield. Puny battlefield it was, barely big enough to fit a small-sized house. But it was an open space, and the campaign waged in maze of passages and narrow gaps around the Tampani was all about taking control of such open spaces. Arendellans had learned quickly that crossing an those was the most dangerous moment there. In the open, one could be ambushed and killed from the shadows before he could back off into defensible position, so the entire point, it seemed now, was to control more of those 'opens' than the enemy did. Now, however, two units clashed with each other before any could secure the open, and so a battle - skirmish, really, given the size of forces involved - ensued.

Nexø cursed and hid his head when a crossbow bolt combed his hair with a whiz. Leaning on the stone, he closed his eyes, remembering what he saw of Weasels. There was at least thirty of them out there, hidden in various passages, including the one Nexø had scouted in the…

Wait. He hadn't entered the passage from the open. There was a connection… Yes, this awful one, in which you had to jump down six feet or so… Yes.

He looked to the side at Hjorth. Lieutenant was reloading his musket with focused expression and still bleeding stone cut on his cheek. Behind Hjorth, ten more people were reloading, hiding or leaning over the stone, trying to kill the enemy. Black smoke was clouding the view, slowly pushed behind the Arendellans, getting thicker with every fired bullet and drowning everything in dark mist.

"I have an idea!", Nexø said over the cracks and whizzes of shots, walking along the line of people. "Follow me. We'll take them from behind."  
He glanced back at Hjorth and soldiers on the other side of the passage in which they were hiding.

"Hjorth, you and the boys there pretend we're still here."

"Will do.", lieutenant answered without looking up. Nexø nodded and hurried his group with wave of free hand.

The further away from the fight they moved, the quieter everything seemed. They were running, the captain searching for the right entrance… here. He turned sharply and people followed him quickly. Here it was almost impossible to hear the battle, only sounds of a dozen footsteps hitting the rock and crunching snow.

Nexø stopped when he recognized the right entranced and crouched, showing his man open hand. Stop. After two seconds, the only sound he could hear was his breath. He closed his eyes, listening. Yes… faintly, but he could hear muskets firing. Good. He started to walk under the wall, careful for any sight of red uniform. But no… it seemed Weasels hadn't felt like climbing today. Good.

The closer he got, the louder the sounds of combat were, and he could swear he heard human voices… enemy voices, he reminded himself firmly… among them. He pushed the thought away, seeing the end of the passage, where it dropped suddenly like a miniature cliff. No red uniforms in sight. Great. He got on the ground, musket in one hand, and crawled slowly the rest of the way, his men following him. Louder, louder and louder… He froze, hearing a scream. No, Hjorth and his men must got someone. Good. Nexø resumed crawling until he was perhaps half a feet from the edge. Then he looked out. Yes, here they were, down there, firing into smoke-framed Arendellans, reloading frantically, shouting, some with crossbows, some with muskets… and none of them, it appeared, looking up.

Nexø brought his musket to bear, searching for an officer. He found one, hatless man who was giving orders around. Nexø hurried his men with a wave of hand and they quickly crawled to him. Captain waited until he was sure each of them aimed, and focused on shooting the officer. He waited until he was sure he'd have a headshot, then pulled the trigger.

_Boom! Splash!_ Half of man's skull disappeared in pink mist, spraying the Weasel next to him, who jumped back, screaming in surprise and looking around. Not for long… _boom! Boom! Boom!_, Arendellans were shooting and blood-sprayed soldier fell to the ground with hole in his armor and chest. There was only seven of Arendellans, though, and a dozen or more of enemies. Nexø backed off and dropped his musket, then took the crossbow off his back and loaded it, crawling back to shoot…

His heart stopped when he heard a shout next to him and crossbow meant for him pierced the skull of one of his people. Don't think now, he told himself, just… just shoot… He aimed at the enemy and pulled the trigger. Chest. He backed off, reloaded a bolt and moved forward again. Somebody was aiming at his men, trying to kill them… loose the trigger. _Bang!_ The man flinched, so arm. Back off. Reload. Move forward. Aim… Yes. Loose the trigger. _Bang! _This time, straight through the stomach. The man fell, clutching it. Good. Back off. Reload. Move forward…

Some Weasels panicked and were trying to back off, but that got them in the way of Arendellans on the other side of the open, who readily opened fire on now visible foes. Screams and shouts of pain rose into the passages, mixed with strong wind that blew smoke, bangs of crossbows, booms of muskets… Others, smarter, were moving deeper into their side of the open, risking crossing Nexø's whole field of fire, but preferring to take their chances against six rather than twenty six. Nexø resumed firing, carefully picking his targets, looking at those who'd dare to attack his men, his people… Finally, there was no one to shoot at. In this passage, at least. Nexø returned to his musket, picked it up and hung over his shoulder, then waved at his men.

"Come on, people! Time to scare the rats out!"

And so it started, bitter, day-long fight channeled into the narrower and wider passages, first as Arendellans were trying to attack the Weasels from behind, and then, with roles reveres, a deadly cat-and-mouse with much more numerable enemies. Hiding, ducking and sometimes shooting back, Nexø and four others finally managed to pull a party of Weasels into the open, when Hjorth's men mowed them down.

Hjorth was not among them, though. Nexø found him after the fight, when they finally secured the open. Lieutenant's chest was pierced by two crossbow bolts, a musket ball ripped his leg open, and he was lying in a pool of his own blood. Nobody closed his eyes and they were staring right at Nexø. It seemed to the captain like there was an accusation in them…

Nexø crouched and closed Hjorth's eyes, praying quietly that Almighty would give the lieutenant more than Soren did.

* * *

In the evening, he was called back to a makeshift command center, way back from what could be called the frontline. It took him about an hour to get back there and it darkness was falling already. He hoped that Weasels wouldn't try anything in his absence, although they had proven already that they don't mind fighting in the darkness, despite musket bangs illuminating them for Arendellan crossbow snipers.

Lund welcomed him in front of a folded table around which other commanders were standing, with a cup of tea in his hands. Nexø saluted, major nodded with a smile.

"Hi, Soren! Nice to see you. Don't worry, you're not the last to come, that honor shall belong to Riis. How are you doing?"

Nexø remembered dead, accusing eyes of Hjorth.

"We've moved forward a bit…"

"Well, that's nice!" Lund walked to him and patted him on the arm, giving him a cup. "That one's yours, by the way. Supplies still haven't bothered to send us anything fresh, so it's just as watered down as it was yesterday."

Nexø didn't mind. Hot drink was enough. He nodded to other captains and they nodded back, some adding a hello. Counting still-absent Riis, there was six of them in total, with Lund 'managing the circus', as he called it in his usual cheerful manner.

Riis arrived with his forehead bandaged and his eyes a bit dizzy, but asked about his state, he said "Don't worry about me". Lund smiled at that and snapped his fingers.

"Alright, then! Let us begin, and make yourself comfy, because this might take a while."

He pulled out a map and unrolled it on the table, pressing the edges down with lamps. Nexø looked at it and winced. For the last few days he was looking at a map of all the passages around Tampani so often, he was starting to see it in his dreams as a background for his nightmares.

"So…", Lund started, "Dahl came up with a plan. The general assumption of it is 'finish the bastards and be done with it'! How about it?"

"Sounds like 'rather impossible for now' to me.", somebody murmured. Nexø sympathized with the sentiment, but Lund's enthusiasm didn't waver in the slightest.

"Wait 'till you hear the rest of it." He pointed his finger at the map. "The day after tomorrow, every soldier from the camp is moving for the offensive!"

"Leaving _who_ to defend the camp from Weasels if they break through the wreckage?", somebody else asked.

"Weasels won't be able to do it, because a huge part of those forces will be going _through _the wreckage." Lund explained cheerfully.

"Didn't we already decide that it's impossible to win through the wreckage?", Riis asked. Nexø shook his head.

"It's a distraction, isn't it?", he asked.

Lund smiled again.

"Exactly! The rest of the soldiers reinforce us and we strike forward, moving as quickly as possible. Weasels will have to pull back part of their forces to defend themselves from the side of the wreckage, and we'll be doing this…" He put two fingers on the map, on both sides of the trail, and moved them forward, around the Weasels' camp. It made Nexø think of some giant maw, ready to swallow the Weasels, but it didn't seem to him like those maws were strong enough not to shatter on their pray.

Lund's fingers finished their journey on the enemy camp and major looked up at the captains.

"So, comments?"

Predictably, there were dozens of those.

* * *

The sunlight was already illuminating the mountainsides with faint red when they finished planning. False down turned to real golden, impossibly beautiful one as Nexø got back to his soldiers and breathed in relief, hearing that while there were some wounded, no one had died this night. The sun was already visible in the passages, casting long shadows as he finished explaining what the plan was. Like him, his men had mixed feelings about this whole venture, but they didn't complain (too much, at least. It would've worried Nexø greatly if nobody'd complained).

They spent the next day doing nothing but defending what they already took, recuperating and bleeding the Weasels who tried to take back Arendellan ground. Around midday, somebody managed to force Nexø to take some sleep on a thin blanket in the back of the ragged frontline. He feared nightmares, but was apparently too tired for that, as he barely remembered closing his eyes when he was awake again. For a moment, he didn't know what's going on, but musket shot somewhere away brought him up to speed quickly. Feeling a bit more human, he quickly walked and inspected his men, talking with them, trying to smile with moderate success and running once again the next day's plan with them.

Colonel Dahl apparently started to move his men at night, because under the cover of darkness the Weasels, instead of pushing forward, were falling back. Arendellans carefully took what Weasels left, checking the ground, walls and everything else for any nasty surprises, but it seemed Lund and Dahl were right, and the Weasels were, indeed, pulling their men back to defend the wreckage. Finally, Arendellans reached some open which the enemy seemed hell-bent on defending, and Nexø sent the scouts to find a way around them.

When the morning came, he got a message from Lund – a piece of paper and a pocket watch. The second thing made the edges of Nexø's lips curl up a bit. So Lund remembered that captain's own watch was broken. Nexø opened the message. _We start at seven o'clock. Have fun! – Lund._

Alright, he thought. Let's see how this will go down.

Six fifty four and it seemed everything was ready. Odd silence fell over the battlefield as Arendellans were preparing for the upcoming battle, some checking the gear once again, others praying in their heads and yet another ones just staring silently at the open in which Weasels secured their positions. The enemies themselves were clearly nervous, looking at all the passages and around with worry, as if they realized that something was about to happen.

Six fifty seven. Nobody talked. People were glancing at Nexø, who tried hard not to swallow and not to pay attention to the stares. Look at the clock, he told himself, glancing time and again at the passage that lead to the open.

Six fifty nine. The secondhand seemed to be slowing down, the space between each tick stretching into what seemed like infinity. By the time it finally reached fifty, it seemed to Nexø that it would stop and never reach the full minute.

And then… he blinked and the secondhand showed fifty eight already.

"Aaaaaannnnd… Move out!", he said and people jumped to their feet, ready and almost eager to fight. Nexø put the watch away, slung down the musket and jumped along with his men towards the passage.

They run forward, towards the curve behind which enemy hid. It had to be done fast, before Weasels could… curve! Nexø turned and saw a makeshift stone barricade and the enemy behind it, surprised, eyes widening in shock.

"Line!", Nexø shouted and Arendellans formed the line quickly just as Weasels finished grabbing their muskets.

"Fire!" _click _and _BOOM!_, smoke covered everything and Nexø heard cries of pain in front of him.

"Down!"

People dropped their muskets, useless now, and fell to the ground. Just in time, as Nexø heard erratic _booms _and bullets flew somewhere over him. He started to crawl forward, losing sight of his own men in the dark… _Boom _and scream, right next to him. He cursed. Bastards were shooting on the ground, hoping to kill somebody, and they did. He rolled to the side of the passage, hoping they won't guess that, and collided with somebody. Two Arendellans exchanged surprised glances and soldier started to go the same way Nexø did. All around them bullets were flying, somebody was screaming in pain, Weasels were shouting frantically, smoke enveloped everything, warping the sounds into something eerie. They reached the wall just as a bullet hit the ground next to Nexø's elbow, sending spray of rocks around and cutting the skin. Nexø gritted his teeth, moving forward and ignoring the pain. Just a scraped skin… He couldn't see anything through the smoke. Focus on the sounds… Terrifying sounds of dying people…

When he was sure he's close, he loosened his sword and pulled it out. He exchanged glances with the soldier, who nodded, sword in his hand. Nexø gave him encouraging smile and waited…

_BOOM_ over his head, now!, he jumped up quickly and pushed the musket barrel to the side, rising the sword. Weasel fell back in surprise, trying to hold the musket, Nexø's sword stroke and found the man's throat, ripping it open. Next to him, another man found similar fate and others were shouting as Arendellans were standing up and rushing on the barricade, climbing on it, jumping over it, killing musketeers whose weapons couldn't match swords at this distance. Some managed to draw their blades and Nexø found himself in frantic defense as somebody was pushing him against the rocks until someone cut the Weasel from behind, saving the captain. Nexø nodded and moved forward, wary, through the clouds of smoke that plunged everything into chaos, listening to the sounds, looking for a flash of red uniform… there! He jumped forward and nearly got stabbed on a sword before jumping to the side at the last second. Weasel screamed in rage, slashing, Nexø parried and pushed the blade down, kicked the man between his legs and used Weasel's shock to cut off first his sword hand, then stomach. The man fell and Nexø turned to where another tried to take a jab at him. Ducking, he more felt than saw another coming at him from behind and he backed off, glancing at the two of them. Where is everybody?, he asked himself, it seemed the battle was raging behind him…

He charged at the left Weasel, pushing him on the ground, then turned around, parried the blade, stomped on the first one's face, kicked with the same leg, ducked a stab, pierced laying man's chest with the blade, sword was falling on his head, he cursed, he couldn't take his sword out, he left it, ducked, grabbed the man's arm, got kicked in the knee, screamed, punched the man in the face, let go of the hand, grabbed the throat, got punched in the gut, loosened his grip, then pulled the man's helmet off and pushed him to the ground. With a crack, Weasel's skull broke and his eyes rolled in the back of his head. Nexø allowed himself to take a breath before turning and seeing more red uniforms approaching. He grabbed the closest sword he found and jumped back to his own men.

They moved forward _en masse_, fighting, cutting, screaming, cursing and dying, but advancing nevertheless, because they weren't the only ones. From all passages, Nexø's forces were moving, closing Weasels into a pocket they couldn't hope to escape from. They tried, of course, to get away, into the canyons, and they were doing well, but time and numbers were against them. After a few hours of bitter fighting the last of them fell, perhaps three meters from passage that could grant him survival.

The smoke had dispersed before that moment, so Nexø sent the runner to Lund immediately and looked at his men, noticing all the dead… But definitely not as many as Weasels', at least. Almighty, me might actually have a chance to do this, he realized with shock.

"Alright, people!", he shouted, catching soldiers' attention. "Good job, everybody! We've shown the bastards how to do this!"

A primal screams of approval answered and for a moment he felt a burst of pride.

"Now, let's regroup and patch ourselves up! If others did what they were supposed to, we're going to fight another battle before the end of the day!"

To his surprise, his men appreciated this even more.

* * *

Judging by messenger's report, Lund was nigh-ecstatic at the news of Nexø's victory. He was encouraging the captain to move forward, adding a little map with positions of other units marked. It seemed there were some problems on the eastern side of the trail, but here all seemed to be going fine. Nexø raised his head and said:

"Everyone, end of the break! We're moving!"

And they did. Carefully, looking for ambushes, they slowly picked their way, pouring into the trails and checking all of them. Soon Weasel scouts started to harass some of them and Nexø moved his forces to defended passages, hoping that it wasn't a distraction so that Weasels could enter now-almost-empty canyons. He didn't have enough men to deal properly with the harassers _and _protect everything… And he hoped the enemy didn't either.

As it turned out, the enemy had those forces. The only warning was Arendelle scout whose scream of alarm was killed by a crossbow bolt and suddenly Weasels attacked, cutting off Nexø's forces in attempt to swarm them. For the second time this day, screams filled the air, crossbows shot, steel clashed, people died. Weasel's plan might even be good - divide the Arendellans and finish them off one by one - but they were starving and short on ammo, and despite their complaints, Arendellans' supply lines were open and working. It soon started to show and Nexø managed to beat off people attacking his group. He then attacked another group from behind, relieving his men, and together they moved back and forth between the canyons, slowly connecting with others, killing, maiming, bleeding the enemy and themselves.

It was long after nightfall when Weasel attack was stopped and Arendellans - injured, bitter and exhausted - reached the open from which the enemy had begun the harassment. While they were setting up the guard shifts, dinner, healers' stations and other things, Nexø just stood in the shadows by the entrance to the open, looking back at blood-painted walls of the passage, bodies that littered it, and his men, dead men… He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Sir?", he heard behind him. He turned to see lieutenant Lindholm, who succeeded Hjorth as a commander.

"Yes?", asked Nexø.

"What do you plan for now?"

Nexø thought for a moment.

"Now? Now let's rest and patch ourselves up. But tomorrow…", Nexø turned to look at the dead bodies once again. "Tomorrow we'll make them pay for this."


	32. Chapter 32: Swan song

_Tampani trail_

It was early morning, the sun was shining brightly, and Vincent Meyers breathed deeply, enjoying the serenity. Finally, he didn't have to do anything that bordered on insane or suicidal. True, he had almost gotten himself killed while getting to this beautiful moment, but at last he had gotten the job of watching the rubble that filled the exit of Tampani trail. The only possible danger was that a bunch of merchie saboteurs would try to sneak up on him, but he had spent long hours picking up a position that would make him pretty much invisible to merchies until it was too late for them. The only thing that could make the situation more perfect would be some fresh food in larger than barely-enough-to-keep-us-alive quantities - and maybe merchies leaving the trail's vicinity altogether. Meyers winced, thinking about it, his good mood vanishing instantly. All over the trail, reports had it that merchies were moving around them, apparently intent on attacking slowly starving Weseltonians.

Starving… Vincent felt his stomach tighten and he pressed it with his hand, gritting his teeth. He hadn't gotten anything to eat for this patrol, as the situation became close to critical. The army was hungry, and it seemed like merchies had managed to cut their support off. Allegedly, people were already starting to desert, but Meyers doubted it. Where would such deserter go? In two directions there were those advancing merchie armies. Forward, there were merchies too. Back? Provided that someone would manage to avoid watchmen, there was still entire plateau to cross, and more merchies that cut the supplies off were probably somewhere out there too. We're encircled, Meyers summed it up in his head, and we're slowly squeezed from both sides until the only option would be to retreat… straight into the enemy.

A sound interrupted his gloomy thoughts and Vincent's eyes narrowed as he listened carefully. Boots on the stone. _Many_ boots on the stone, and advancing slowly in his direction. He carefully slung down his crossbow and stood up, pulling his hood on to hide his hair. When he finally had his eyes over the rock and saw what's going on, his eyes opened wide. Oh, crap, he thought. 'Impossible'? Who said it was impossible? Sure, they aren't doing very well, or moving very fast, but there's a goddamn army going through this wreckage right now!

He turned back and ran like hell back to the camp.

* * *

"Are you sure?", the captain asked, worried, while general Windsor started giving orders.

"Saw them myself, sir.", Vincent answered, glancing at all the officers present in command tent. "They must've emptied their camp completely, because I don't see any other way they could do this."

The captain nodded and cursed under his breathed. Vincent sympathized.

"What are they _thinking_?", some other officer asked in annoyance. "In this terrain, at this pace, we'll kill them all before they'll have any chance to attack us!"

"They probably expect us to be too busy with attacks from our flanks.", general Windsor murmured. "And truth to be told, I don't think we have nearly enough force to defend ourselves."

"So what do we do?", somebody else asked. "Fall back?"

The general winced and Meyers swallowed. They couldn't be outnumbered by merchies… or could they? The fights around the trail seemed to be swallowing countless soldiers…

General Windsor sighed.

"Call back the units fighting in the mountains. We can't afford holding such a wide frontline.", he stated. "We hole up here, and defend ourselves, and… yes. As much as it pains me, we have to start retreating."

The officers looked at each other with worry, but their appearance - and hunger - was speaking for itself. They had gambled with Tampani trail - and lost. Now all they could do was to try and fight back to Weselton, in hopes of reaching relative safety.

The first one to speak was the scout captain.

"Yes, sir.", he said, saluting. "I'll send the messengers."

"Good." The general nodded and the captain left. Meyers followed him, still slightly shaken.

Out in fresh air, they were passing people running in all sides, arming themselves, putting the armor on, giving orders, glancing in stress at the command tent. The captain jogged through all that without looking back and Meyers kept up with him, not sure of what he was supposed to do.

"Sir!", he said. The captain stopped and turned back.

"Yes?"

Meyers lowered his voice.

"Sir, I understand the general wants to retreat to the High Table… but _somebody _had cut us off from our supplies."

"Believe me, sergeant, neither I nor the general forgot it.", the captain answered, his voice a bit snappy. "But if you have any idea better then 'curl up and die', I'm absolutely ready to hear it."

Vincent swallowed.

"Sir… I know it doesn't sound right, but we could still try to surrender."

The captain smiled sourly.

"Good luck trying to persuade the general to do it. He's every bit an aristocrat, and _obviously _aristocrats don't surrender."

Sooooo, Meyers though, we're pretty much frakked…

"Follow me.", the captain added. "I've got a job for you."

…and I'm frakked as well, Vincent added in his head. He followed, though. Whether he'd be on a suicidal mission or stay here, there wasn't much he could do, apart from praying that the Almighty has a soft spot for beleaguered soldiers.

* * *

_West of the trail_

Soren Nexø slowly scanned the mountain slope with his eyes, looking for any suspicious shapes that would betray Weasel presence. So far, the enemy had launched two attacks and Nexø swore the latter would be the last time he had let himself be surprised like this. Not that his visual inspection was necessary - the scouts were everywhere around, looking into every passage and under every stone, making sure the road is clear. Nevertheless, they were moving forward at a fairly good pace and the path in front of them was strangely empty, as if Weasels weren't really putting their hearts into defending their camp. Odd, but if Nexø's men survived because of this, the captain was perfectly fine with it.

One of the scouts returned and nodded to the captain.

"It seems to us like they're retreating.", he said with curiosity in his voice. "The only ones we've seen so far are scurrying back to their camp like hell itself was on their toes."

"Close enough, I guess.", Nexø answered, earning smiles from soldiers who had heard the exchange, "but we're not going to chase them only to run headlong into a trap. Still, that's a nice thing to hear."

The scout nodded and left in hurry. Nexø returned to walking forward and scanning the mountain slopes. So, they're backing off to their camp, he thought. We must be pushing them harder than we thought. Good. Maybe it'll be over soon. Maybe…

Half an hour later, another scout came. This time, a worried one.

"Sir, they barricaded the entrance to one tunnel, and it seems they won't be retreating from that one."

Nexø's attention snapped to him immediately.

"Where?"

"About two hundred meters forward, behind a twist, there's an open. They holed themselves up by the exit from it, on the opposite side than we are."

Nexø nodded, thinking.

"Any alternative paths?"

"There's one other to the west, but it's blocked as well."

"Alright. So… Go to lieutenant Thorsen, tell him to collect forces west of him, and lead him to this other path." Scout nodded and left, and Nexø turned to lieutenant Lindholm, who approached them during the exchange.

"Get ready, and call the boys on the east. Unless there's some other major problem, we're taking this blockade."

"Yes, sir." Lindholm nodded and waved to another scout.

Sometime later, Nexø had an opportunity to take a look at the barricade. Lying on the mountain slope, he wished colonel Dahl could manage to get some cannons up here. Two well-placed shots would probably blow this orderly, well-built construction of wood and stone to pieces, but alas, it would take days just to get a gun here, and major Lund had made it clear that time was a factor here. Still, a headlong assault would be a suicide for the first ranks. Perhaps Nexø could win the place by some horrid human wave, but such a waste of life was out of question. Nexø grimaced, trying to find some other way.

"Half of it must be wood…", lieutenant Lindholm murmured next to him, holding a spyglass, redundant at this distance, in his hands. "I wonder when did they find all of that."

"Maybe they used the crates they carried food in.", Nexø answered, quietly annoyed with rather useless remark. Lindholm nodded.

"Pity we can't set it on fire… I bet it would pretty much take this thing apart."

Not to mention scaring the enemy away from it, Nexø thought. But… could we actually set it on fire?

He slid down and joined his soldiers.

"Alright, people, a riddle for you.", he said and Lindholm joined him. "How can you set something wooden on fire without going near it?"

People looked at each other.

"Uhm… throw a match?", somebody suggested.

"Too light", another soldier answered, "wouldn't get there."

"Throw something heavy that's on fire at them?", somebody else said.

"It'd just bump off.", Lindholm noted. A soldier in the back rose his hand.

"Uhm, I know this is stupid, but… well, you can make a lamp by setting fire to alcohol in the bottle, although it doesn't smell well and all… I mean, bottle would brake on impact and alcohol would stick to the wood…"

Nexø nodded slowly, thinking. Yes, it had a potential…

"Makes sense to me."

"We don't have any alcohol.", Lindholm noted.

"Doc has some!", a few people shouted, pointing at team healer. The man shrugged.

"For medical reasons."

"Still", Nexø said, "it should work. Let's try it."

* * *

"Sir, are you sure you want to do this yourself?", the lieutenant asked, looking at Nexø.

"I won't send anybody else for almost-sure death.", Nexø answered crisply. "Just light it up and be done with it."

Lindholm nodded slowly, looking at the bottle in captain's hand. It was rather large for 'medical reasons', but that was better for Arendellans. A torn-out rag was squeezed into it to act as a wick and the lieutenant was holding an unlit match in his hands. Nexø glanced at the canyon he was going to run into in the next moment. Well, he thought, let's hope they will be too surprised to actually shoot me, he thought. Not that he wasn't protected - two soldiers offered their breastplates and leg guards and Nexø was clanking with every movement. So much metal would probably stop musket bullet from some distance.

"As you wish, sir." Lindholm lit the match and pressed it to the material. They've soaked it in alcohol earlier, so it caught fire eagerly. Lindholm stepped back.

"Good luck, sir."

Nexø nodded.

He jumped out to the canyon and ran, bottle heating up in his hands, armor clanking wildly, boots hitting the rock, and the end of the tunnel seemed to be endlessly far away. The barricade looked impenetrable from here and Nexø leaned forward, speeding up. They must start shooting soon… Soon…

_Bang! _He gasped and stumbled as something hit him, but found his footing, kept on running, thinking so many actually can stop musket ball! He started to dodge erratically, bottle hotter and hotter, oh, please, don't blow up in my hands, another shots flew at him, something banged again and he almost fell to the ground, stone next to him exploded in spray of rock, why is the end so far?! Is it getting longer?! He took a deep breath and dodged again, just in time as a bullet whizzed past him with sound like swarm of wasps. It can't be that far!, he told himself, barely hearing his own thoughts through the clanks of armour, I must be getting closer, why am I not getting closer?!

And suddenly the open. He stopped on his heels, rising his burning hot hand, taking a swing and… He screamed when bullet tore his hand and dropped the bottle. He looked down at it. Fire had almost reached the alcohol, and if this exploded… oh, shit, he thought, looking up and seeing somebody aiming at him.

With as much force as he could muster, he kicked the bottle and ducked to the side, jumping. Something hit the armour on his side with a bang and he fell on the ground, barely managing to cover his face with good hand. He tensed, waiting for another shot…

It didn't come. Instead, he heard a crisp sound of wood cracking in the fire, then a panicked scream and clanging of boots on the ground. He slowly looked up. The barricade was on fire.

I actually did it, he thought and stood up, shaking. He held his hand and looked at it. Let's hope it's just something minor…

* * *

Arendellans waited until the fires burned out and then climbed over the stone, chasing the Weasels, Nexø following them from behind with bandaged arm. Soon, they rendezvoused with Thorsen's team, which tried conventional assault and took some losses in it. I should've told them about this idea, Nexø scolded himself as they returned to moving forward.

As they were slowly entering yet another empty open, a runner from Lund reached them.

"Sir, the Weasels are apparently leaving their camp and trying to exit back up the Tampani trail. Your and other commanders' orders are to close the circle behind them so that they can't escape."

Nexø stared at him in shock. Has Lund gone mad?, he asked. What, should the entire mass of Weasel army attack my people?

"Right… tell him I'll do my best, but I don't think that's actually possible."

"Will do, sir." The runner saluted briefly and left. Nexø rubbed his temples and looked at the scouts.

"Make contact with other units.", he ordered them. "Maybe they'll have a better idea how to do this."

They nodded and run off. Nexø nodded to his soldiers.

"Let's go. We have to find Weasels before we do anything."

They moved forward, much faster now as the scouts were reporting that the entire army concentrated in Tampani, defending themselves from the flanks and Dahl's forces. As others came back with messages from the rest of the captains this side of the trail, it became painfully clear that there was little they could do except for harassing Weasels from one side. Nexø sent a messenger to Lund telling him exactly this, although he didn't expect any answer soon.

Finally, they reached the area which Weasels were seriously defending. There were soldiers, barricades, horses. Nexø stopped there, thinking, consulting with his lieutenants, planning. Not that there was much he could do. If only he had more…

"Sir! Sir!"

He looked up. A scout was running to him from the north and… was the man cheering?

"Share the good news.", Nexø encouraged him. The scout grinned widely, panting. Finally, he got himself together enough to state:

"Sir, we've… made contact with generals Kristiani's and Olafsen's forces. It seems they took the Streams and are striking at Weasels from the other end, and they're way into the trail!"

* * *

_In the Trail_

We are so, _so _frakked, Meyers thought, swallowing and looking at the army in front of him. In the back, merchies who had just managed to make it through the rabble and were pushing back. From the sides, scores of merchie soldiers who had spent the last days slowly grinding their way to Weselton army. And finally, in the front - the only way out - fresh merchie army ready to kick Weselton's ass.

And the colonel won't surrender, he thought, sliding off the slope and running to the command. Terror started to creep into him. We're all dead, aren't we? Maybe those folks who try to desert are actually the sanest of us all? What else can we do, after all?

After hearing the report - one of many - the captain breathed deeply.

"That's bad. Very bad. We're pretty much cut off, and… oh, damn it."

He looked towards the general, riding slowly on his horse at some distance. Then he turned back to Meyers and other scouts. He got off the horse and looked slowly around.

"Now, listen to me. I know the general won't surrender, but I don't care. We're probably going to try and break through the army behind us, because it's smaller, but even if we manage to, we'll be on Arendelle territory and I don't have to tell you it will be hostile, so this is bound to end badly."

He swallowed and spoke on.

"Anyway, what I'm saying here is that you're no longer needed, as even the best scouting in the world won't save us from now on. Alone, you have a chance to sneak through Arendellan lines around the trail. Do this. Get to the High Table. Find your way back to our soldiers. But first and foremost, get out of here before all hell breaks loose and keep yourself alive."

Meyers blinked, looking at the captain in incomprehension. Is he… is he trying to… is he telling us we should desert?

He's trying to save us, he realized with a pang of heart.

"A… and you, sir?", he asked with a lump in his throat, knowing the answer.

"Don't worry about me. I'll be covering for you here, just send others to talk to me." He jumped on his horse and looked down, smiling reassuringly. "Good luck, boys."

Meyers… didn't know what to say. He just… stared at the captain. We're leaving him to die. We're leaving him to die and there's nothing we can do about it…

Somebody saluted. Others did as well.

"It's… been an honor, sir.", Meyers managed to say. Other scouts nodded.

He stopped quickly by ammunition cart - it was painfully close to being empty - and picked up some crossbow bolts, then ran to the wall. Others were already disappearing between the rocks. Meyers gritted his teeth and started to climb. Once on the top, he looked back. He'd swear he saw the captain next to the general, standing as to obfuscate Windsor's view of the escaping scouts.

Meyers turned back, feeling tears creeping into his eyes. Time to go, he told himself. The captain trusts me to survive this, and it wouldn't do to botch my last order…

* * *

Over the next few hours, battle raged in the Tampani trail, as forces of Arendelle encircled and decided to squash Weselton army. Roar of shouted orders, screams of pain and defiance, fired muskets and crossbows, clashing steel and fists, filled the air in terrifying cacophony. It seemed it could be heard from miles, and the smoke of powder was clouding the entire battlefield and rising like a sign of a giant bonfire on which Weselton army would be burned. The 'Weasels', despite their derogatory nickname, were fighting bravely and valiantly, attempting to break through colonel Dahl's widely spread forces and reach the rubble in which they could try to lose their pursuers. Soon, though, generals Kristiani and Olafsen sent reinforcements through the maze of passages surrounding the trail, and for Weselton, it became a race with time.

A race which, ultimately, most of them lost.

Of the eleven thousand trapped in the trail, less than five hundred managed to drive a wedge between Dahl's soldiers, break through, reach the wreckage and disappear among countless rocks before Arendellan reinforcements fell on it like a hammer. Then, for those who hadn't made it, it stopped being a battle and turned into carnage. The Arendellans had advantage of numbers, strength and elevation. The Weseltonians had nothing but iron determination and full knowledge of the fact that there was nowhere to run, and they fought only to delay the inevitable, knowing that they were most likely to die here. General Windsor himself died leading a desperate last charge against Kristiani and Olafsen's forces when a lucky musket ball reached his face, destroying one eye and ravaging the brain.

After that, some Weseltonians tried to surrender. A few Arendellans accepted it. Others didn't.

* * *

Soren Nexø jumped over the rock and ducked immediately behind another one as someone shot at him from the other side. Weseltonians were trying to enter the maze and while most of them hadn't even made it up there, a small groups did, and it was up to Nexø and others to stop them. Crouching behind the rock, captain didn't doubt that this particular rabble would be finished quickly. Him and Lindholm were only drawing their fire and attention, and Thorsen was going at them from behind, to destroy the enemy completely. Nexø hoped he'd do this quickly, before too many of his men would fall prey to crossbows.

Suddenly, silence fell, ringing in his ears, as bolts stopped flying. Nexø narrowed his eyes. What was that, some kind of a trick? What were the Weasels playing?

It became clear after a moment.

"We want to surrender!", a voice with odd accent screamed in panic. "Please, we want to surrender!"

"What?", Nexø gasped quietly. What was this supposed to be? Was this bastard Weasel really thinking that Nexø would just let him…? After all that happened? Just like this…?

He took his crossbow, loaded it and slowly stood up, aiming at where the enemy was hiding.

"Show yourself!", he called.

After a moment, a ragged figure walked unsurely from behind the rocks, legs trembling, hands up. Nexø aimed at him, putting his finger on the trigger, and enemy officer swallowed.

"P-please!", he called with shaking voice. "We-we're all out of ammunition! The only.. the only other thing I could do now would be t-t-to get my men slaughtered! P-p-p-please, l-let us surrender!"

Nexø's finger trembled as he looked through crossbow's crosshairs, the weapon pointed at Weasel's head. They're treacherous, tricky bastards!, he told himself. If they could, they'd kill all of your people without batting an eye, and when circumstances are unfriendly, oh! Then they want us to uphold rules of honour they don't know themselves! I should just pull the trigger and let Thorsen kill the rest! I should just…

The officer was trembling with terror, he noticed. How young is he? Sixteen? Seventeen? Almighty, it's just a kid in a uniform…

He killed your men, he reminded himself harshly. Your fellow soldiers. Why would you show him mercy?

He killed because he had his orders, just like you, he reminded himself. And… I don't want to do this. I want to be better than them. I… damn it, I just want this all to end…

"All of you, come out of there and on your knees!", he snapped. "And if I see any single one of you carrying a weapon, even a goddamn butter knife, you're all dead on spot! Understood?!"

"Yes! Yes!" The kid nodded frantically and turned to his people, if anything, trembling even more. Nexø took a breath.

"Thorsen!", he roared, making the Weasel jump. "They surrender! Don't kill them!"

He was waiting until he was fairly sure he heard a faint 'yes, sir' and for some reason, his knees felt weak under him when the exhaustion of last days and weeks finally reached him. Sure that his mean would keep an eye on Weasels, he leaned on the wall and closed his eyes, trying not to tremble.

Inside, he was shaking completely. I'm going to fall apart, he thought with despair. I'm going to fall apart and… and…

He felt a hand on his shoulders.

"It's alright, sir.", he heard Lindholm's calm voice. "We're all exhausted, but it's over now. It's over."

Nexø nodded, breathing deeply, slowly calming down. It's over, he repeated after Lindholm. It's over… Over…

Above their heads, Vincent Meyers was sliding slowly through the snow on the mountain slope, thankful for the distraction.

Somewhere on the High Table, lieutenant Gardner was leading Weselton cavalry on his loyal Traveler towards general Berg's position.

Back in Arendelle, the killer posing as cook was adding to the dinner some unusual ingredients that would poison half of the castle guard.

In the city of Weselton, two people were scheming to keep the conflict going for as long as possible and then profit from it.

But for captain Nexø and his men, the war was over.


	33. Chapter 33: Looking for a way out and in

_Westerguard_

Seeker had been created by queen Elsa with a rather straightforward purpose in mind – as its name might hint, it was to seek princess Anna, help her if necessary, and bring information to the Elsa. To achieve that, it was made quite smart, and long journey south with nothing to do but running made _her_ – as the creature finally decided it rather be a girl than a non-gender – think a lot about what would happen after her purpose was achieved. Would she spend all her existence running errands for Elsa? Because that didn't sound very enjoyable.

It seemed, however, that she wouldn't even get to the point when it would have to worry her.

"Oh, c'mon.", Seeker murmured, standing on a float she made for herself in the darkness. The piece of ice was rising and lowering itself with the waves, and the cliff in front of snow greyhound was moving up and down in her eyes as well.

It was a very high, very vertical cliff.

"This is absurd.", Seeker added, walking around and looking at her four icy paws. "Why couldn't she give me extra fingers or something? And why did they lock Anna up this high up, anyway?"

She sighed, puffing a cloud of frost in the air, and looked up at the cliff again, leaning to see from under the cloud that followed her everywhere. But no, cliff, disappearing high up in the dark, wasn't showing any signs of lowering itself, and, as she had proven already, her freezing wasn't very helpful where climbing was concerned.

"Oh, _come on_!", she repeated a bit louder, complaining to the world at large. "I can't go through the city, I'm not exactly stealth incarnate!"

She sent an icy look, both literally and figuratively, at the cloud that followed her. It refused to disappear – perhaps for the better, seeing how Seeker would most likely melt without it – so snow greyhound looked back towards the port bay, whose illumination was visible even here, reflecting on the unsteady sea. Seeker sighed again. She has already ran around the island, and it seemed the port was the only part of it low enough for her to climb on it. Well, deep into the night, when only the watchmen were outside and awake, was probably the best time to sneak by.

Seeker shook her head, spraying snow around herself, and trotted towards the port, waves breaking down the ice float as she left it.

* * *

Up in the keep – in the "luxurious" dungeon, to be specific – princess Anna of Arendelle was standing on her let's-call-it-bed, looking between bars through a tiny window. Outside, it was dark, with clouds covering the stars and moon, although the port shone some light on the water.

"What are you searching for, rescue? It's not coming.", she heard from behind herself and turned around with a glare. Hans was standing behind the bars, looking at her with this smirk of his.

"What, can't sleep?", she asked him, getting off the bed. "I can whack you over the head, I'm sure it'd help."

"Charming as usual, I see." He shrugged and added, with irony dripping from his voice, "No, I just thought you'd appreciate someone visiting you."

"I would, if it was anyone but you.", she answered, sitting down and folding her hands. "The cleaner, for example. Much nicer person by a long shot."

A smile danced on Hans' lips and Anna sighed. The cleaning lady was probably the most obnoxious and ranting-prone person on Westerguard, but at least she was doing something useful, while Hans visited her only for taunting session, and it seemed nothing would move him. Well, he's got me and there's nothing he can do about it… Or so he thinks.

Anna thought of the stick under her bed and other little things she managed to stea- uh, borrow from the cleaner. The thought made her smirk and Hans narrowed his eyes.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing. I just imagined what will happen when your brothers will find you. A lovely sight, I'm telling you."

"Really?" He folded his hands as well. "And what makes you think you'd like what you'd see?"

"They certainly seem to be way, way better people than you, as far as I've seen."

For a moment, Hans' face alternated between anger and arrogant little smile. Finally, the latter won, although, to Anna's small satisfaction, it was somewhat artificial.

"You don't know them very well.", Hans told her. "And I doubt you'd want to see any single one of them."

"Because their arrival would mean you get to kill me?", she snapped. He tilted his head.

"Now, now, Anna. I've never said I'd kill you."

"Accidents happen, though.", she told him with irony.

"True, unfortunately."

Anna snorted.

"Still, any single one of them would be more easier on my eyes."

He rose an eyebrow.

"Even Ferdinand? He had a few hard days, you know."

Anna eyed him suspiciously. Ever since she had been locked in here, the only people she was seeing were two guards, cleaning lady and Hans. Even though she had asked them how the captain's doing, they weren't exactly forthcoming with information.

"So, what did you do to him?", she asked suspiciously.

"Oh, me?", Hans smiled, spreading his hands. "Haven't laid a hand on him, and nor had anybody else."

Before he added this 'and', Anna suspected he had someone do something to Ferdinand, but now she wondered. What could Hans do to the prince without anybody touching him? Poison them, or… well, his hand…

"He needs a doctor, doesn't he?", she asked. Hans shrugged again.

"Perhaps. I don't know and don't care."

He smiled mockingly and turned, then waved her.

"Goodnight, Anna. Don't worry, my brothers will arrive soon…"

He walked out of her field of vision and she heard him adding:

"…although I don't think you'll like this."

No, I won't, she answered in her head, putting her hands on the bed. Hans' last words were worrying. Was he just playing with her, wanting to see her fret and worry, or was he actually telling the truth and Isles' navy was due to arrive soon and attempt to take Westerguard back? And while she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her nervous, she couldn't ignore the latter option either. 'Accidents' happened, after all, and Anna was quite sure Hans was going to arrange one for her.

She glanced at the door, where the guard returned to his regular post, and smiled to him. The man seemed nice, the little she got to know him, although she couldn't fathom why anybody normal would like to work for someone like Hans.

Well, he fooled you too, and he had much more time to work his charms on locals, she reminded herself. Nevertheless, she asked the guard:

"Would you put out the torch, please? I'd like to go to sleep."

He answered with a smile of his own.

"Of course, miss. Right away."

He walked to the torch and covered it with something apparently used to cut the air off. After a moment, semi-darkness fell, as port light and torch two cells away remained the only sources of illumination.

"Goodnight, miss."

"Goodnight to you too.", she answered, confident that he didn't see her, and made a sound show of laying in the bed, then twisting and turning in it to find a comfortable position. Finally, when her eyes got used to the dark, she laid down and waited until the guard got bored and started to pace around. Then she slowly and silently reached under the bed.

* * *

Sneaking around was going surprisingly well for Seeker. She managed to climb on the ground with a wave and she darted behind the patrol walking by, her snow-padded feet barely making any sound on mudded street. She then landed in some unlit alley and nodded to herself, hiding behind some crates. Unfortunately, this was where someone decided to hide as well.

"Oooh, shiny…", someone murmured behind her and Seeker turned, thankful that Elsa hadn't decided to include normal-things-smelling nose in her design. The man in front of her was rather run-down, and wearing something that was probably sailor's uniform – some time back, now it was more like tattered, alcohol sprayed rags.

"Waaat a nayyyth…" he bumbled. "Monssers runnin doon de ssreet…"

Just ignore him, something told her. On the other hand, he was local, and other part of her mind noted that he'd be likely to have some information. Only she had to make him speak.

"Ah, mister, I ain't no monster.", she whispered.

"Ann iss taalkin…", the man answered in awe.

He won't be any help, the pessimistic part of her mind noted. It doesn't hurt to try, tiny optimist part answered.

"I'm, uh… a figment of your imagination."

"Eh? Ya' mean, Imma soo drunk, I seeee fings?", he asked.

"Uh… yeah, that's what I said."

"Ahhh… sooo cool…"

The man apparently lost interest. Come on, leave him now, pessimist told her. Nah, try to ask him, optimist countered. He's not in shape or mood to tell me anything, Seeker noted, but nudged him a bit.

"Hey, just a stupid, drunk idea here: you think there's a way to sneak into the keep?"

"Uh…?" The drunk turned to her. "Why couddin I shast come in?"

"Dunno, maybe they won't let you in."

"But Imma nice…"

She sighed again. Why am I doing this again?

"Sure you are. But think what fun it would be to surprise the guards!"

"Oh… yaah, fun… Yeah, I nooow…" He smiled, and Seeker sat down, finally getting somewhere.

"So?", she asked.

"I cad… I noow, sneeek in by de suppp-" He thought for a moment before finishing, "dem supplies door, yeah? Dey're under dis hiiigh tooer, so no one will see…"

Finally, something! Seeker breathed with relief.

"Yeah, probably. Have fun, then.", she told him and ran away, hearing 'come back, doggy!', behind her. No way I will, she thought, trotting in the shadows behind the buildings towards the keep.

There was only one road leading there which Seeker could use, and at the end of it there was a huge illuminated space and two alert guards. Snow greyhound cursed in her head. There seemed to be no way to sneak by without the cloud over her head catching their attention. Pity I can't wish it away, she thought. On the other hand, perhaps it was for the better. Either way, she had to think of some way to pass by and under the "hiiigh tooer" - the _only _tower in the keep, in fact - and she kind of doubted that the guardsmen would just walk away.

Lying low, snow cloud hanging right over her, she crawled to the edge of the cliff, looking down. No convenient pawholds, unfortunately. Seeker crawled to the other side, but no help from this angle either. She looked at the guards again. Hm. She had to get into the keep _somehow_… She looked back towards the town, remembering the drunk. Well, perhaps I was too hasty in declaring 'never coming back'…

* * *

Anna sat in her bed slowly, sure that it sounded like she's changing her position again, and laid all the things she had in front of her. There was the stick, a bar of soap and a bottle of some dark cleaning fluid. Anna selected the soap and bottle and got off the bed, walking to the bucket of drinkable water. It quickly became less so when she dropped the bar in and poked it for a while until it started to melt.

"Miss, are you alright?", the guard asked from behind the bars, apparently hearing the splashes.

"Uh, not really, I don't think so…", Anna murmured, trying to make herself sound sick. "I think my stomach is rebelling…"

She finished with opening the bottle and making a show of running to waste bucket and exclaiming "BLURRGH!" while flushing the liquid inside.  
"Bleh!", she said and repeated it a few times in pained voice, which wasn't all that hard when fluid's awful smell reached her nose. The guard cursed.

"You do sound sick, miss. Just… wait a moment here, okay? I'll fetch the doctor."

"O… okay. Don't worry, I… _bleh_… can't go anywhere anyway…"

She waited until the guard left and nodded to herself, then checked the soap. She prodded it a bit more until she was satisfied with the results and then carefully poured the mixture on the floor in front of the bed. She nodded to herself, checking it with her foot. Slippery. She then sat on the bed, grabbing the stick and waiting.

After some time, the guard returned with a doctor, a man that looked like he had been woken up a minute ago. He carried a small lamp. Anna grabbed her belly and hunched, sighing in mock pain. The guard, obviously worried, pulled out the keys.

"Don't worry, miss. Doctor Gaspard is a good healer."

Gaspard said something in Weste and the guard opened the door. Anna hunched a bit more, nodding in silent encouragement. Come closer… She kept one hand on her stomach, while putting the other theoretically on the bed, and practically on the stick. The doctor and the guard approached her both and the doctor looked down, murmuring something unpleasant. He probably thought that it wasn't soap. Anyway, when he got closer, Anna decided to spring into action.

With a sudden _blaargh!_, she slid off the bed, grabbing the stick, and smacked the doctor on the head with it. The man made idiotic face, falling to the ground, and the guard jumped back a bit, eyes wide in surprise, reaching for the sword as Anna took a swing at him.

"Sorry about that!", she called, meaning it. The guard took another step to get out of her range and finally this soap paid off, as he slipped and fell back, throwing his hands up. Anna punched him across his face with the stick and the man gasped, then hit the ground. He wasn't moving. Anna walked to him, slowly not to slip, and checked his breath. To her relief, he was alive. She quickly searched his belt and acquired three keys on a ring and a bottle in two-layered, woolen warmer, half-full of something warm that tasted like tea. She drank it and took her shoes off, then put the two layers of the warmer on her feet to silent her steps. She considered taking the sword, but finally decided against it. She didn't know how to use it anyway.

Having checked the doctor - he was alive as well - she took the stick and keys and exited the cell, locking it behind two still-unconscious men. She remembered the stairs leading up being on the left of her, so she went there and slowly walked up. There was huge, wooden door on top of the stairs. In pitch darkness, Anna finally managed to find the keyhole and tried the keys. The second one was correct and she slowly opened the door, listening. After a moment, she heard a voice speaking in Weste with curiosity. She opened the door wide and jumped out, looking to the sides. Somebody on her left was just opening his mouth in surprise, but before he could recoil, Anna hit him, then again and again. She caught the man before he slid on the ground and made any noise and glanced behind her on the staircase. No one here, thankfully.

Anna took the keys off the man and pushed him into the dungeon, then locked the door and looked up and down the stairs. Which way should she go now? Up or down? She surely couldn't leave by the main entrance, and she should find Ferdinand as well and get him out of here. Finally, she decided to hope that it was still some time before guard shift and hurried downstairs, guessing that it would lead to other dungeons.

* * *

When someone considers you a thing they imagined, it's not hard to convince him to do something stupid. First of all, because that's basically him telling himself to do something, in his opinion. And second, if he's ready to believe that he imagined you when you tell him so, he's probably drunk.

Anyway, as it happened, Seeker managed to convince the man to follow her quite easily. He was tilting and staggering, but generally walking rather well, murmuring something about "stupid storms and tilting decks". Seeker didn't answer to that and upon getting to the border of lamplight, she ducked for the shadow and observed.

The drunk staggered, looking around.

"Ey, doggy? Weeere are ya?" He noticed the guards and spread his arms wide, approaching them. "Ello deere! 'ave ya seen my doggy?"

The guards looked at each other unsurely and Seeker shook her head. Just watching the drunk's routine was embarrassing.

"Mister, you shouldn't be here.", one guard stated, walking closer.

"Ah, yeah? I shshast wanned to payya a vissit!", the drunk answered, getting closer as if he was actually going to hug the guard. Understandably, the watchman was quite freaked out by that and moved away, pulling out a sword and looking as if he wanted to poke the drunk with it until he went away. Seeing what's happening, the other guard burst out in laughter and Seeker decided she had seen enough of this poor quality comedy. With both guards' eyes on the drunk, she darted by and disappeared into the shadow.

Hearing the guards and drunk talking behind her, she walked under the windows and lowered her head so that no one looking out would see her. She quickly trotted past, looking at the tower. Finally, she reached something that looked like supplier's door. She stood on two feet, trying to push it open. To no surprise, it was closed. Hoping that there was somebody on the other side, she knocked on the door with her icy nose. After a moment, she heard:

"What time do you think it is?"

So, there was a guard inside. Good to know.

"Well, the boss said 'take it to the keep as soon as possible', so here I am!", she called, pretending to be a man. Surprisingly, she could feign both genders equally well and the guard inside apparently bought it, asking:

"What's this 'it'?"

A neutral pronoun, a part of her brain quipped. Of course, you probably don't know it, seeing how you are apparently ready to believe someone is making deliveries in the middle of the night.

"How am I supposed to know?", Seeker said. "I have four crates with me that we got off one of those huge ships and I just want to get rid of them!"

"Oh? Well, let me see…"

He actually bought it, Seeker thought in surprise. Whoever rules this place, must have terribly low security standards. Well, good for team Seeker, she added, landing on the ground. The guard opened the door and looked forward, raising his eyebrows and failing to notice snow creature half a feet lower.

"What is this, some stupid…"

"Surprise!", Seeker said cheerfully and the man barely managed to look down before she jumped on him and pushed him on the ground. He hit the floor and looked at her in panic, starting to scream. She shook her head, though, and puffed on his face. It was quickly covered in ice and the man looked at her, wide-eyed.

"Shsh.", she told him, stepping off him and grabbing him by the collar of his uniform.

Having locked the man in a wardrobe in the cabinet next to the door and blocking its door with a huge table, she managed to close the door and looked at the place she was in. Short stairs down took her to a corridor with lots of doors leading to rooms full of crates. Seeker trotted past, smelling for Anna. She felt her and exited the corridor, finding a small staircase and going down.

* * *

Anna was crouching next to the door of some guards' room, growing steadily more impatient. There were three men inside, talking, and the door was open wide. Maybe Anna could sneak by without much fuss, but she worried. If they did notice her, she wouldn't have much chances of fighting three men with a stick.

Suddenly, she heard one of them standing up and heading towards the door. Anna flattened herself against the wall, hoping he wouldn't notice her, and indeed, the man left the room while still looking at his comrades inside, and walked away from the princess, humming something. This wasn't really good. The moment he came back would be the moment he noticed her. Great. Anna slowly crept back on the staircase and stayed there, leaning out and looking at the corridor, occasionally glancing back. It seemed most people were asleep, though, as she hadn't seen anyone on the staircase so far.

After a few minutes, the guard returned from his patrol and walked into the room. Watching him rapping on the door to announce his presence, Anna suddenly got an idea, although she wasn't sure if it was so genius.

She heard steps behind her. So there _was _somebody here and this somebody was going her way. Alright, let's try this idea.

She walked quickly and pushed the door lightly, closing them. She then quickly passed by, hoping that her bet was good. She heard a surprised voice behind her and took a breath, resolving not to turn back. Thankfully, the first cell was empty. Anna ducked into it and waited, holding her breath.

There were steps in the corridor and the sound of the door being opened. Two people started to argue, and after that somebody apparently walked into the room. Anna stopped holding her breath with relief. Apparently, prison break was pretty unlikely around here if the man thought somebody was playing prank on him.

Well, arguably she wasn't sneaking out of the prison, but in, but still, they should do a better job.

She slowly exited the cell, looking out, but it seemed that the three guards and the newcomer were all in the room. Anna nodded to herself and started to walk towards other cells, hoping it's the right place and wondering how to sneak out.

Soon she started to feel the awful stench and she covered her mouth, feeling her dinner climbing up to her throat. What do they keep here?, she asked, and for a moment she feared she'd find dead, rotting bodies, as the odor suggested exactly this.

Finally, she approached the cell with somebody sitting on the floor in the corner, clutching his arm and not moving - she hoped because he was sleeping, not dead. Leaning closer, she recognized Ferdinand and inhaled sharply, almost vomiting at the stench and noticing that the prince is very obviously sick. What happened to him? Why hadn't this doctor she had knocked out helped him? She glanced at the guards' room, but she could hear them talking even here, so she leaned closer and, covering her nose, whispered:

"Ferdinand!"

No reaction. She glanced at the guards again and repeated a bit louder:

"Ferdinand!"

He finally reacted, looking up and blinking slowly. Anna noticed his arm and pressed her hand closer to her nose as she saw dark, sickly green and black color the skin on his stump turned to. What happened? Did Hans actually poison him with something?

"Hauser…?", Ferdinand murmured. "_Du? Willst du mich zu noch einmal verspotten?_"

Anna shook her head, pulling her hand down.

"Ferdinand, it's me. Anna. Princess. Remember me?"

The prince leaned forward a bit, wincing.

"Anna? _Was machst du hier?_" He shook his head and hissed with pain. "I mean… what are you doing here?"

"Rescuing you, and what does it look like?", she told him, opening a hand she had cover her nose with before and showing him two sets of keys. She selected one and tried to fit it in the keyhole.

"What's this stench?", she asked.

"Gangrene in the stump…", he murmured, slowly getting on his feet, his legs all shaking. "Hauser doesn't want me to see a doctor."

"Who's Hauser?", Anna asked, trying another key and glancing towards guards' room. Nothing in both instances.

"Local Navy admiral. He and I used to…" He shook his head. "Never mind, anyway… He hates me…"

So he wants you to die of rotting? Anna winced, trying another key, and again, nothing. She took the second key ring. Ferdinand stumbled closer and Anna swallowed hard as the odor of gangrened arm grew stronger. Another key. Nothing. And yet another. Still nothing. She looked at the last one.

You better work, she told it.

"Don't be stupid, just leave me.", Ferdinand murmured. "I can barely stand on my feet, much less run, and I'm in no shape to fight, and probably everybody could smell me for miles…"

"Oh, shut up. I'm not leaving you so that Hans or this Hauser guy can kill you in an appropriate moment."

Ferdinand leaned his head on the bars next to her, looking with pained, faint smile. Anna checked the last key. It didn't work either.

"I'm telling you, just leave me here and make a run for it. Bring help, if you want to."

"Hans taunted me that his brothers will come here soon.", Anna answered. "You might be dead before I manage to find any sort of help."  
Ferdinand sighed.

"I'm telling you, just go. You can't get me out of this cell anyway."

"I'll find some way.", Anna told him, looking towards the guards' room.

The guards here had to have the key to Ferdinand's cell. Only now Anna had to steal it from them somehow.

""""

_Note no 1: If you have a weak stomach, don't check how gangrene looks like. I did, just to describe it correctly, and… Bleh. Ugh. Excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom…  
Note no 2: Sorry if I butchered German here. If you're curious, Ferdinand was meant to say "You? Do you want to mock me again?" _


	34. Chapter 34: Prison escape

_Weselton_

Seeker trotted quietly between two rows of cells and smelled the air - or magic, or whatever - in search for princess Anna. She cursed in her head. She left the staircase a floor too high. She turned around, intent on leaving, when she heard voices to her left.

"And what the hell is that?"

"Dunno, looks like a dog to me."

"Have you ever seen a dog like this? And accompanied by its own tiny storm cloud?"

"Uhm… nope."

"Exactly."

"So what the hell is this thing?"

"It's Seeker, thank you very much", the snow creature stated, turning to look. There were five dark-skinned men shackled in the cell, one of them with elaborate golden ear- and nose rings. They all looked at her with curiosity.

"Nice to meet you, ah… miss Seeker.", the earringed one, who had asked the first question, said. "Uhm… what are you?"

"A snow greyhound, created by queen Elsa of Arendelle.", Seeker stated quickly. "Look, I'm looking for princess Anna, did you see her? Red-golden hair, freckles?"

"No, sorry… uhm, miss.", the earringed said. The men next to him called:

"But we could help you looking! You're trying to free her from this bastard prince, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. And…?"

"Well, we've got a ship. He's her captain.", the man stated, pointing at the earringed one, and the other three nodded quickly. "I don't think you can carry her on your back, what with this storm cloud and all, so how about allying?"

Seeker considered the offer. In fact, she hadn't thought much beyond getting Anna out of the castle, but with how secluded Westerguard was, having a ship to escape in would be useful.

"We'd still have to avoid being shot.", she noted.

"We'll think of something.", the captain assured her.

"Great. So we have a deal, I guess." She looked around, but there seemed to be no handy hook on which the key would hang. "If I can free you, that is."

The captain nodded and said:

"The guard is coming here once in a while. He haven't arrived in some time already, so he should be here soon."

Seeker's instincts were telling her to leave the sailors and run for princess Anna, but common sense dictated she provide her a way of escape. So she backed off into an empty cell and hid there, waiting.

* * *

Anna crept under the doors to guard's room, stick in her hands. Judging by the sounds, four men in there were playing cards, but princess doubted she could take all four of them out before one managed to either overpower her or call for aid. Still, keys to Ferdinand's cell were somewhere in there and Anna had to get them somehow.

She was thinking for some time, trying to find some way to steal the keys. Finally she decided that the most audacious - or perhaps the second most audacious - approach would have the best chance of success and put the stick on the ground, careful to make no sound. She then took a deep breath and slowly leaned forward, glancing into the room.

Four men were sitting around the table, playing cards with two bottles of something between them. They all conversed loudly and all seemed more focused on cards than anything else. Anna scanned the closest one. The keys were dangling from his belt on a metal hook she remembered climbers using, conveniently less than a meter over the ground.

Only now she had to enter the room and take his keys without catching his or anybody else's attention.

Anna tried not to swallow as she slowly crept into the room, thankful for warmers on her feet. The guards were starting to argue over something. Anna crept forward, every move seeming to take eternity when all she wanted was to jump there, grab the key and run. She couldn't move any faster, though, if she didn't want her dress to rustle and betray her presence. So inch by inch, she slowly moved towards the guard on the chair and the keys on his belt. Over her head, the argument started to heat up.

Finally, Anna reached the chair. Hearing angry voices over her head, she slowly rose her head towards the key and grabbed the hook, holding her breath and looking up. She slowly pressed to open it…

Suddenly, the guard jumped to his feet, shouting something furiously, and Anna's heart pounded as the keys escaped her fingers. She backed off a step, seeing two Weste arguing over the table, screaming and nearly grabbing each other by the collars. The other two were looking at it, one annoyed, one holding back a smirk. Another set of keys dangled from Smirk's belt, this time on a leather strap. Anna hesitated between waiting for the Hook to seat back down and risk being discovered, or trying to get Smirk's key and risk being unable to untangle the strap and being discovered. Both options were equally bad, but she hadn't gotten so far to back off now…

Finally the issue was solved by guards themselves, as finally the Hook said something, punched the table, and sat down. Anna waited until the game resumed and rose her hand again, focused on obtaining the keys.

Then, before she could even catch it, the Smirk hit his forehead with palm of his hand and stood up, saying something apologetically and giving back his cards. Great, Anna thought, _now _he's going on a patrol. The princess slowly took a step to the left, hiding behind Hook's chair, and waited. Smirk left without looking back and Anna nodded slowly, looking up at Hook and annoyed guard to her right. Annoyed took a deep gulp from the bottle and the game resumed.

Anna nodded and looked at the keys again, hoping that this time, nothing would interrupt her. She slowly raised her hands… grabbed the hook… pressed to open… took the keys in her hand so that they wouldn't rattle… slowly took the keys of the hook… let go of the hook… and lowered her hands. She held back the urge to breathe in relief and slowly started to back off to the door, looking at three guards and checking whether they noticed her. It seemed they didn't. Good… She took another step and froze, feeling something behind her. She turned her head and noticed that she nearly walked into a cupboard.

Anna winced and took a few steps to the left until she was crouching in front of the door. She looked at the players again, but the guards seemed as oblivious to her existence as before, so she slowly exited the room.

And then, of course, she had to step on this goddamn stick.

_Bong-ng-ng-ng-ng_… The wood hit the stone and Anna jumped to her feet, running towards the cells. Idiot!, she cursed herself, you should've ran to the staircase! She stopped and looked around, hearing surprised voices behind her, and ran until she reached Ferdinand. She shoved the keys to the price and ducked to the opposite cell, then slid under the bed-plank, hoping that the shadow would hide her.

Soon she heard footsteps and saw legs of three guards coming into view. They stopped and one turned to Ferdinand. He spoke mockingly in Islander, although with accent so heavy Anna had trouble deciphering it. Another guard joined him and after few more teases Ferdinand answered in exhausted voice. Anna understood that one, although she was sure her tutors would much rather if she didn't. The guards chuckled and glanced into Anna's cell.

The princess froze.

They looked in for a moment and then she heard the sound of locked door. Someone said something and she was sure she understood that one.

"Just in case."

Oh, great. Now I'm locked up here.

* * *

Seeker was growing impatient. Surely a thousand things had gone wrong already! She started pacing around the cave, with the captain assuring her that the guard would come soon. Seeker didn't really feel like waiting until "soon". She felt Anna moving below her and it itched her to go and find the princess…

"Here he comes, miss!", the captain whispered.

Seeker stopped midstep, then realized the dark man is right. Hearing heavy footsteps, she slowly crept into the cell and readied herself.

After a while, she heard someone entering. The man stopped by the cell and asked mockingly:

"How are you doing?"

"Just wonderfully, mister.", the captain answered in similar tone. "We're having great fun here. Care to join us?"

"I know better pastimes than hanging around with bunch of suicidal idiots.", the guard answered, then there was silence for a moment. "Well, I see none of you evaporated while I was gone. A pity. Goodnight, then."

"Nightmares to you too, mister.", the captain answered and guard turned back towards the door.

That was Seeker's cue. She jumped out of the cell and onto the guard's back. Then man fell on the ground with a puff and tried to pull himself back and grab a sword before Seeker lowered her head to his ear.

"Try something I won't like, and you're dead."

He could see her with one eye and was clearly terrified. Seeker nodded and, just to make a point, shown him one of her paws. Chunks of ice emerged from the snow-like paws.

"Clear?", she asked.

"Monster…", he whispered.

"I asked you something…"

"Clear! Clear!"

"Good."

She walked off him and growled, "Keys to their cell."

"Yes, yes…", the terrified guard scrambled to sitting position and took the keys from his belt. He almost thrown them at Seeker, who shoved them to the captain. The men started to unlock their shackles while Seeker watched the guard, who seemed too terrified of her to try anything.

"Monster!", he was whispering, "Monster…"

Finally the captain unlocked the cell and Seeker let him take care of the guard. The Weste ended up shackled and gagged. The captain closed the cell behind him and looked at Seeker.

"Thanks for your help, miss. Manco Xatec, by the way."

"Nice to meet'ya.", the Seeker answered, trotting towards the stairs. "And now let's go, we're running out of time."

* * *

"Ferdinand.", Anna hissed. "Ferdinand!"

She had been calling him for some time now, but it seemed he passed out again. Anna gritted her teeth. The key-ring was right next to him, if only he'd care to take it. There were enough many keys for all the cells, and one had to fit the lock in Anna's. Only the prince was as cooperative as a brick…

"Ferdinand!"

Finally, he raised his head and blinked a few times before his eyes focused on Anna.

"_Was…_What?"

"The key!"

"What key?"

"Next to your good hand, you idiot! The key to our cells!"

Ferdinand blinked again before looking and taking the key-ring from the floor. The keys rattled loud enough to wake dead and Anna sighed in exasperation, but the sounds of playing guards were loud even here, so they seemed not to care about whom them might've locked up.

Ferdinand slowly stood up, faltering, and leaned heavily on the door before pushing the first key into the lock. Wrong one. He dropped it, prompting another rattle and another wince from Anna, and took it back, then tried another key. And another. And another. There were a dozen or so keys on the ring, so it was apparently going to take some time.

Finally, the eighth one fit in the lock and Ferdinand turned it. The cell door slung open and Ferdinand fell along with it, then lost his grip and fell to the ground. Anna's eyes widened.

"Are you alright?"

"Tired…", he murmured, then shook his head and slowly gotten himself to his feet. "N-now you…"

He started to try the keys, but he kept on grabbing his head as if it hurt him, so finally Anna took the ring from him and started to check the keys herself. The fifth one finally clicked and she carefully opened the door, gently pushing them so that Ferdinand wouldn't fall. The prince staggered back and look to the side.

"Oh, bad. They noticed…"

Anna quickly slipped out of the door and looked towards the guard's room. They noticed indeed, and they had their swords out, saying something and running in their direction.

"Oh, crap…", she murmured, out of ideas. The men were running at them and Anna's only option seemed to be to try and duck them and run to the stairs… and what about Ferdinand, then?

Before the first man reached her, though, he yelped in surprise and fell to the ground, with something huge and white on his back. The other two were taken down from behind by two people of darkest skin she had ever seen. She quickly nodded to them and looked at the white shape which was now smacking the guard on the head with an icy paw. It was big enough for its head to reach princess' chest, and those feet sure looked powerful.

"Uhm, hello? You must be one of Elsa's constructs…", she said carefully. The creature looked up and Anna noticed blue chunks of ice that must've served as eyes.

"Why, I am. Seeker, at'yer service." The fact that it was a girl was a bit of a surprise, but princess didn't let it show. "Anna, yes? Elsa sent me to find'ya."

"Yes, it's me. Nice to meet you."

"Great, then let's go."

Anna pointed at Ferdinand, who was still looking at the Seeker with curiosity.

"We have to take him as well."

"You've gotta be kidding me!", Seeker said. "I went for one person, now I'm saving six? Oh, c'mon!"

"Who are they, anyway?", Anna asked, then looked at the closest man, whose face was pierced with multitude of small rings. She extended her hand.

"Anna."

"Manco Xatec.", the man said and added something. Anna smiled.

"Nice to meet you, but I didn't understand you."

The man started to say something, then sighed and looked at the Seeker.

"He pretty much said the same.", the snow hound told her. "And he said he's the captain of the ship that will take you and your friend here home."

Anna nodded, surprised.

"You understand him?"

"Yes. Why don't you?"

"I've never learned Southron."

"Me neither, and I speak it."

Xatec said something in insistent voice and Seeker nodded.

"Right. Let's go." She repeated in Southron and the captain nodded. They went towards the stairs and Anna followed them, pulling half-conscious Ferdinand behind her.

"How are you doing?", she asked.

"Could be better…", he answered hazily. "You think one of the Southerners is a doctor?"

"I don't know." They jumped on the stairs and Anna asked, "Seeker? Do Southerners have a doctor?"

The snow creature said something and one man answered. He pointed at Ferdinand's arm.

"_Cankrena._"

"Gangrene, yes.", she answered.

"Now, hush, both of you!", Seeker said and they fell silent, the Southerner understanding the tone if not the message. The Seeker disappeared behind the corner for a moment and then returned:

"There are people passing the corridor in both ways, uniformed. They seem to be in haste. It seems we've been discovered, so I suggest being careful."

"_Xo?_", the captain asked. Seeker sighed in annoyance and repeated in Southron. The dark men nodded, but the doctor pointed at Ferdinand and said something.

"What is it?", Anna asked.

"He said the smell will surely catch their attention."

"Well, can he do anything about it?"

Seeker asked the doctor.

"He says not now."

"So we'll just have to deal with it. Lead the way."

"Aye, aye, ma'am.", Seeker said half-mockingly and entered the corridor. The captain followed her, then Southerners motioned Anna and Ferdinand and went after them.

"You know the way, I hope?", Anna whispered to Seeker.

"There's a side exit."

"Good…"

She didn't finish, because they nearly collided with three guards. Both parties were equally surprised, but snow creature was the first to recoil and jump on the first men. The Southerners joined the fight and a few moments later, they had swords and knives. The captain motioned Anna and she followed, Ferdinand right behind her.

"I wonder where they've learned to fight.", he murmured to her ear. "There isn't much of piracy on the Stormbringer."

"Right now, I'm rather grateful.", Anna answered, pulling him further. They went around the corner, where another unwary guard met with unconsciousness courtesy of Seeker.

"Close now.", the snow creature said and repeated in Southron. Anna tensed and even Ferdinand seemed to understand that if they were to be stopped, it would be now.

And… Nothing happened. No watchmen, no guards, only a room in which someone was trapped inside a wardrobe. Southerner doctor ducked into the room and picked up candles and matches before nodding. Captain Xatec pressed the handle of the door and they slowly went outside.

It was drizzling and Anna breathed deeply fresh, cool, wet air, finally feeling wind on her face. It wasn't the first time she couldn't leave one place - her childhood in the castle came to mind - but having tasted freedom once, she was grateful to have it back.

"So…", she asked after a moment. "Are we free?"

"Not yet.", Seeker answered.

"No? What's left?"

"We have to bypass the watchers by the main gate and reach the city without revealing ourselves." She spoke something to the captain, who nodded and turned to Anna. He said something and she shook her head.

"I'm sorry. I don't speak Southron."

He sighed and turned to Seeker.

"He says that we'll have to be extra careful now.", she told her. "Captain obvious…"

Anna turned to Xatec and nodded, then pushed Ferdinand down and followed Seeker, who was creeping under the windows. Soon they reached the main gate and Anna understood the problem. The lights were all on and it seemed there was no way to sneak past without plunging into darkness.  
Behind her, captain said something.

"Seeker?"

"He asked why can't we climb on the cliff until we'll out of sight. There are no footholds." She repeated the last thing in Southron and captain talked with his men for a moment before saying something to the Seeker. He and one other person passed Anna, Ferdinand and Seeker and slowly crept into the light.

"What are they doing?", Anna asked.

"They're trying to take the guards down and then make a run for it. Be ready."

"Right." Anna looked at Ferdinand, who showed her thumbs up despite looking like dried corpse. The princess turned to another Southerner and showed him by hand gestures to take Ferdinand. The man nodded and then pointed forward. Anna turned, just in time to see two Southerners take the guards down from behind.

"Now.", Seeker called and jumped from the shadow, running towards the path down. Anna followed her, as quick as she could in the dress, hearing three Southerners behind her. The captain and the other man joined them and they sprinted downhill, towards the city.

When they reached its border, Anna turned to the hills, motioning the others to followed her. She was relieved to hear they did. The city would be a trap once Hans found out about their escape.

We're free, she realized with joy. Then reality set in. We're free, but we're still on the enemy island, and even if Xatec has a ship, he still has to escape the port…

* * *

They walked through the hills until first rays of sun set in and they reached a cliff facing south. The drizzle faded, but judging by the skies in the distance, illuminated from below a beautiful rose red, more rain was to come.

The Seeker found an empty shepherd's hut. Anna was quite wary about sleeping in one, but the snow creature assured her that she doesn't sleep and set out on patrol. Xatec and his men were apparently content with it, as apart from one, they all went to sleep on wooden floor. The doctor stayed, working on Ferdinand's arm. After few minutes of watching, Anna felt sick from it and left the hut, choosing to sit in front of it.

She must've fallen asleep at some point, because when she opened her eyes, sun was nowhere to be seen and clouds filled the sky. She blinked and looked to the side, noticing someone standing there.

"Ferdinand.", she said. "It's good to see you on your feet."

"Thanks.", he sat down, leaning on hut's wall and rubbing the stump of his hand, which grew shorter by Southerner's operation. "And how are you doing?"

"Glad to be out of the castle. And you?"

"Could use something to eat. Apart from that, it's good not to have this…", he glanced at the stump. "…anymore."

He looked at Anna and whispered:

"Look, I don't really trust those guys."

"The Southerners? Why? They've helped us."

"Sure they did. But consider - they are supposedly traders from a pendulum ship, right?"

"That's what I've gathered."

"Then how come they don't speak Islander? Generally people don't know Southron."

"Maybe they do here."

"It's still only proper to actually learn the basics of language of country you're trading with. And another thing - how come they can fight so well? I mean, did you see how they acted back in the castle and around it? They're way too good at fighting. And consider, the captain's first idea was to take down the guards."

"Second, actually. Besides, we don't know where they hail from. Maybe they're ex gangsters, or maybe Southernmost Lands have compulsory military training."

"This didn't look like military to me.", Ferdinand murmured. "Look, it's just - I don't know, it just that something seems… _off _to me in how they act. So - please, don't trust them completely, alright? Be careful."

Anna nodded.

"Alright…" She looked at Ferdinand, but the prince was already falling asleep.


	35. Chapter 35: Steel and ice

_Arendelle_

Elsa felt like falling asleep. She had spent the last five hours – it seemed longer, really, but the clock kept on insisting that only five had passed – in the Royal Council's chamber, listening to barons talking and arguing about country's finances. Important thing – that the country could probably carry on with the war for one more month before economic problems would start – had been discussed in the very beginning of the meeting, and now mundane stuff – taxes, trade and so on – was the subject. Elsa knew that it was important and tried to pay attention, but the steady trickle of numbers coming from barons' mouths had something soporific to it. Finally the Treasurer sighed and closed his files.

"Well, I guess we can wrap it up for today...", he said, to queen's joy. "Unless somebody has anything else to add?"

The silence fell for a while before baron Guldbaek, Royal Lawmaster, spoke up.

"I'd still ask for Her Majesty to solve the conflict quickly using her powers."

Elsa sighed, looking at Guldbaek. The man did have a point, but she had already answered him, and yet he kept on bringing up this subject on every single Council meeting. It wouldn't do, though, to ignore one's master lawyer, so Elsa smiled courteously and said:

"As I have already told you, I am still not exactly confident whether I can control my powers over large areas. Believe me, if I was sure that I can put a giant wall of ice around our border, I'd do it and negotiate with Weseltonians that way, but on this scale, I'm not completely convinced that I won't end up either freezing our own soldiers to death or conjuring up another Great Freeze."

"Our soldiers are dying there by thousands anyway.", Guldbaek murmured. Elsa winced, feeling a pang of guilt in her soul. That hurt. He was right, she was sending them to their deaths anyway. Still, she felt that there was a difference. At least against Weasels they could fight. And if it all went wrong, at least they wouldn't feel betrayed by their own queen... Or perhaps she was just trying to silence her own fear of using her powers? She thought she had this phase behind her, but what if...

"I apologize in advance for sounding harsh", she heard the Treasurer speak, "but, baron, those are soldiers. We don't have draft. Those people knew what they were signing up for when they volunteered, and defending our country is their damn job, with all dangers that come with it."

Elsa nodded to the Treasurer thankfully and baron Madsen, the only actual soldier in this group, said:

"I must admit that I would appreciate the war being solved this way... despite the fact that if it proved possible, I'd find myself in search for another job..." This provoked some smiles and he continued, "But don't forget, it's been only three months. Her Majesty might know how to use her gift, but I assume such skill needs practice."

Guldbaek nodded sourly and said slowly:

"Then may I suggest that... after this war ends, obviously... Her Majesty would travel somewhere desolate to train so that the current situation wouldn't repeat itself?"

"That's a good idea.", Elsa admitted, wondering why she hadn't thought about it before. After a moment, she reminded herself that she had spent the last three months getting used to being a queen, solving Great-Freeze-caused problems, dealing with foreign and home politics and doing dozen other things that accompanied the change of ruler. She nodded and said:

"I'll sure find time for it once our current troubles are over."

Guldbaek snorted, somewhat humorously.

"Then this might take some time..."

"Oh, please.", the baron Sidder, the Chancellor, spoke, for the first time in a while. "We had almost everything wrapped up before Weasels decided to strike."

"I'm sure something else would come up.", Guldbaek told him.

Well, I'd still have to stop Berg and his happy company, Elsa added in her head, but didn't say it out loud. So far, of the councilmen only the Spymaster knew about generals' scheme, and so far, Kristiani, Berg and Olafsen had been doing exceptional jobs. I'll have to pardon them after this is over, Elsa realized, and she wasn't sure if that's such a good thing.

"Then with this decided...", the Treasurer said, unaware of her thoughts, "can we say we're over for today?"

"Yes.", Guldbaek told him.

"Finally...", the Chief Administrator, who looked as if he really wanted to fall asleep, murmured.

"Nothing I could add.", Sidder said, stretching his back. Spymaster just nodded and Elsa smiled, standing up.

"Then I wish you all good... afternoon?" She glanced at the clock and murmured sourly, "Evening, rather..."

* * *

She ended up eating dinner with Madsen and Guldbaek, as the former's wife was away in the island and latter was an old bachelor. Elsa couldn't help but look at the place Anna should occupy. She worried. The Seeker should've already came back - after all, how far could Elsa's sister be? Whoever kidnapped her, couldn't possibly carry her off far away… or could? She rubbed her temples.

"Don't worry, Your Majesty.", she heard Madsen speak and turned to look at the baron. "Your sister is a free spirit. I wouldn't be surprised if she convinced your snow creature to accompany her to some adventure."

Elsa smiled graciously.

"That's… not beneath Anna.", she agreed. He nodded with a tight smile and Elsa felt like facepalming when she realized that he too had no message from his own son for days now. Idiot, she told herself, truly, you found a great moment to start the subject.

"The courier ship from Weselton will probably arrive here soon…", she said carefully.

"Probably.", the Spymaster agreed slowly.

For a moment, the table was silent and then dinner was brought in - cheesecake for two barons and chocolate mousse for Elsa. Seeing this, baron Guldbaek remembered some story about one lady he once met. Listening to the tale, obviously tailored to make them feel better, Elsa couldn't help but hear baron Madsen murmur "one of _many_ ladies" and "met and got to… know better" among other comments and finally the bad mood hanging over the dinner dispersed.

* * *

It was already dark outside as Elsa went to her room. There was a guard in front of it, as per usual, but something didn't quite fit. Elsa tilted her head.

"Excuse me, but I don't recall seeing you here before.", she said carefully. The guard smiled uncomfortably, shrugging with a bit of stress.

"Uhm, well, I'm new here, Your Majesty. Oh, um, I'm private Emilsen. Well, I should be at the gate, but the cook, well, proven kind of shi… I mean, I'm sorry, shoddy at his job and managed to poison a lot of b… uh, other guards, so uhm, yeah. Here I am."

"Oh. I hope they're fine." Elsa said. The guard, who must've been perhaps a year older than her, nodded eagerly.

"Yes, yes, yes, don't worry, Your Majesty, it's just those, those, uhm, stomach pains. I'm sure, I think… uhm, I guess they'll be coo… fine by the end of the week."

Elsa nodded with reassuring smile.

"Alright. Don't worry so much, private Emilsen, I don't bite. So far, no one has tried to attack me either, so I assure you, you'll be bored pretty soon."

"Oh, no, no, I'm sure not, Your Majesty…"

Elsa smiled again.

"As you wish. Goodnight then. Just try to stay awake at midnight, captain does a patrol then."

"Oh, thank you. Uhm, Goodnight… uhm, goodnight, Your Majesty."

Elsa nodded to him and entered the room. Inside, she breathed deeply and fell on her back on the bed without even undressing. She was… absolutely exhausted by today. Just like every other day.

I wonder how father managed to have so much energy all the time, she thought, wishing her ice dress off herself and calling for spike of ice to grow and bring her nightgown to her. Perhaps after ten years he got used to it…

She put the gown on and fell asleep.

* * *

"Sir, there's a message from the port."

Baron Madsen looked up from the desk in his study at his aide. Grizzled sergeant looked back at him from the entrance and continued:

"One of those captains you wanted to meet with personally has returned."

"Ah? Which one?"

"Commander of _Dancer_, sir."

Baron took his reading glasses off and stood up, grabbing his coat. It was Kai's and Kristoff's ship.

"Great. Let's go."

In the corridor he slowed down so that the sergeant with a peg leg could keep up with him.

"Do you recall why I put _Dancer_ on 'for my eyes only' list if it's in diplomatic service?", he asked as they entered the courtyard.

"Must've been this time when we borrowed it for this extraction op in Tampere…", the aide told him. "Probably someone forgot to get it off the list when we lent it for official purposes."

Madsen nodded, noting to himself to get _Dancer _off the list once he came back.

They arrived in the port a few minutes later and found the ship. The captain came on the pier for them.

"Good morning, your grace. I've brought your messages.", he said, holding two letters in his hand. Madsen took them.

"How nice of you, Gerd. How's the situation beyond the sea?"

"Not too bad, not too good… really, your grace, this king of theirs…"

"…Weselton is ruled by a _prince_…"

"Ah, maybe. Either way, your grace, he's one stupid bas… ah, unusual idiot."

"I see… So we have no peace treaty yet?"

"Not really, no."

Madsen nodded and thanked the captain, still looking at the letters in his hand and recognizing Kai's handwriting. He started to walk back to the palace, his aide following him, when a call from behind stopped him. He turned to see a sailor from _Dancer _running to him.

"Your grace! Sorry to disturb you, but there's this… thing going towards the palace!"

"_Thing_?", the baron asked curiously and returned to the ship. Halfway to it, he saw the 'it' mentioned. It walked off the water and stopped in front of baron.

He looked up and almost swallowed, finding the saddle empty. Did something happen to Kai?

"Hello.", he told it. "You must be one of Her Majesty's snow horses."

The creature didn't answer. Instead, it leaned closer and produced something from its mouth. Madsen caught it in his hands before it could fall on the ground and swallowed, seeing Kai's metal pen case.

"I see… he murmured, opening it, and stepped aside. The snow horse trotted towards the palace. Madsen didn't look after it, instead opening the pen case. Inside, he found a short letter. Fearing the worse, he unrolled it and read.

It wasn't the kind of bad he had feared, but it was bad nevertheless.

"What is it, sir?", the aide asked curiously.

"Not really a thing to discuss in public.", he told him, thinking quickly. So, someone was planning to assassinate the Queen. Given Her Majesty's… specific skills, this could prove problematic. So the assassin would have to get her when she was asleep. But there was still a matter of palace guard… Madsen's eyes opened wide.

"Oh, crap.", he just said and ran to the palace.

* * *

Elsa woke up to an odd sound. Weird, she usually wasn't alarmed by random night time noises. She sat in her bed, rubbing her eyes and trying to find out what woke her up. Was it something from the outside? She stood up and looked out of the window. She could see nothing but her own reflection in the glass… and the reflection of someone entering the room. She turned quickly.

"Private Emilsen?", she asked in surprise, seeing young guard standing by the door.

"Uhm, yes. Oh, I, well… I'm, I'm sorry, Your Majesty." He pushed his hands in his pockets with stress. "It's just that, uh, I've heard some odd sound and I… I thought something happened."

"Yeah, I've heard something too… What was it?"

"Uhm, well, it sounded like a… kind of a, uh, 'thump' sound, Your Majesty."

"Hm. Perhaps something in the wardrobe fell down…", Elsa murmured, walking to it and opening it. But no, everything seemed to be in place. Only…

Suddenly she heard a crack and gasped, feeling an explosion of pain in her neck. She started to scream, only to have her mouth covered with gloved hand.

"It was a sound of door opening…", she heard Emilsen's whisper as he pushed the blade deeper in her neck and twisted it. Elsa tried to scream in pain, but suddenly she couldn't even take a breath. She fell to the ground, looking at the private, who dropped his nervous appearance, looking at her coldly and calculatingly. He knelt next to her. Through the pain Elsa managed to feel surprise. An assassin… she tried to raise her hand, but she barely managed to move her fingers… Emilsen's eyes narrowed.

"What the hell…", he murmured, leaning closer. "I've cut your spine, you should be dead already… Ah, well. Freakin' magic."

He rose his hand again and she nearly fainted of pain as the blade cut through her eye and into her brain. She tried to ignore it, but she couldn't, all the world was in red haze and pain, pain, pain, it all hurt so much! She tried to call upon her powers but she couldn't feel them… She noticed with one eye that her killer started to look disturbed. He slashed once again and Elsa screamed in her head as her throat was cut open. She could only feel blazing hot blades of pain, she tried to focus on ice, her ice… she tried to make something and she… she tried to… The killer leaned even closer, looking in her one good eye.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!", she heard him asking through the pain, panic creeping into his voice. "You don't have a spine, you don't have a brain, you don't have your throat and you're still goddamn moving?! What the fuck are you?!"

He shook his head and stabbed once again. Elsa could barely feel her powers, somewhere down the well of pain… She looked at the ceiling, where ice was amassing slowly. So slowly… So much pain… The killer shook his head again, pushing the knife into her skull, and again, and again, and she couldn't die, she couldn't faint, and…

"I've cut your head off! Your skull is goddamn gone! Why aren't you dead?!"

He took a breath. Elsa tried not to listen, not to panic, not to pass out of red haze as she slowly formed an ice spike… The killer was still talking, composing himself.

"Right, right. Nothing's immortal, there's got to be some way to kill you… Wait, wait… Magic keeps you alive, right? And it runs on emotions… They say emotions are in the heart, huh? So yeah, why don't we try this…

He rose his blade, ready to cut her heart open and then… Elsa focused and finally… the knife started to fall and…

The spike fell down from the ceiling, piercing the assassin's back and Elsa's stomach and pinning them both to the floor. Elsa tried to scream, but she couldn't.

* * *

Hakan Madsen ran to the Queen's room and stopped in the door with a gasp of terror. The Queen was lying on the floor and there was a man in guards' suit spread over her, bleeding from giant back wound made by ice spike sprouting from his back. He had a knife next to his dead hands… blooded knife. The Queen… the Queen. For Majesty's sake, the Queen.

The Queen's head was cut off. The Queen didn't have one eye and a huge part of her skull. The Queen was lying in pool of her own blood and brain. The Queen's throat was completely ravaged. The Queen…

The Queen's one eye moved. It looked straight at Hakan.

I'm not imagining this, he thought as the eye moved to the guard and back. She's… somehow… He turned back.

"Call the doctor!", he told the nearest guard.

"What?!"

"Don't ask, go!", he called and jumped into the room and to the body. The Queen's eye was following him as he tried to grab the spike and pull it out. He finally managed to do so just as the doctor arrived. The man cursed by the door.

"I'm sorry, your grace, I'm afraid I can't…"

The Queen looked at him and the doctor jumped in shock.

"What the…?!"

"I don't know, but she's still alive somehow…", Madsen said, pushing the guard's body off her and leaning over. The Queen's chest was open wide and he could see the heart… it was beating furiously, despite the fact that no blood was flowing out… Madsen looked up.

"Try to patch her up.", he told the doctor.

"But she's…"

"Somehow alive. And that was an order, doc."

The man nodded.

"On it.", he finally managed to utter, kneeling by the Queen and pulling needles and threads from his bag, shaking. "How is that even possible…"

"I have no idea.", Hakan admitted, walking to the Queen's head and bringing it closer to the body. "Magic, perhaps… We don't know what it does, after all… Uhm, connect this first…"

Almighty, this looks like someone shot her with cannonball, he thought, trembling. The eye looked at him.

"Don't worry, Your Majesty…" he managed to tell it. "We… we'll patch you up… Don't worry, you'll be fine…"

Another people started to amass by the door and soon screams started.

* * *

Elsa felt… hazy. She couldn't open her eyes, she couldn't do anything, and she felt some odd… uncomfortableness in her head, her eye and her throat… She took a breath and heard a whizzing sound.

"What was this?", she heard a voice from somewhere in front and above her. It was familiar, but she couldn't place it anywhere…

"I think… I think I haven't patched her throat as well as I've thought…"

"You _think_?"

"Getting to it now…"

She felt more uncomfortableness for some time and she floated out of consciousness again.

When she regained her senses, everything was still misty. Two people were talking.

"…sure she doesn't feel it?"

"I've pumped her with enough anesthetic that I'd be surprised if she got over it before the next week."

"Is this wise? Her heart might give up."

What were they talking about? Elsa tried to think but the haze was all around her, lulling her to sleep… She tried to stay awake, but it was so tempting… The voices changed. Both were familiar…

"So you think her heart is the key?"

"I'd say so. It was beating mad even though there was no blood to pump."

"So… Only destroying the heart would kill her? Surely a relief for the guards… Uhm, maybe that's a bad moment to ask, but do you think Hans' sword would actually succeed? I mean, back when Anna who saved her life."

Anna… Elsa tried to open her eyes and see if her sister is by her side, but her eyelids were so heavy…

"I'm not sure, really. I don't know at what angle he was aiming. The blade was certainly sharp enough to cut through her… I've just realized… if the cut was really bad, we might've not even noticed that she's still alive…"

"You mean… we'd bury her like this? Oh my god…"

Bury me alive? No, please don't… Elsa tried to speak up, but she barely managed to move her lips…

"Your Majesty?!", two voices called. She managed to open her eyes a bit and through the haze she saw two familiar faces… Baron Madsen and Guldbaek… she tried to talk to them, but the mist surrounded everything and she lapsed into oblivion again.

* * *

"It's my fault.", Madsen said, looking levelly at the glass of Tamperan vodka in his hands. Him and other members of Royal Council were sitting in their usual room, sour and serious. It's been the first night after the attack and the Queen hadn't woken up yet.

"It's not like you were the one to cut her up like this.", Chancellor Sidder noted, pouring himself another glass.

"Well, thanks for that remainder, but I was the one who approved of hiring this 'Emilsen' guy. And the cook who poisoned the guards must've been his associate."

"The man was professional assassin, you said it yourself.", the Treasurer noted.

"But yes, that was a serious slip-up.", Guldbaek murmured. Madsen wasn't sure if he felt like strangling the man or thanking him for his honesty.

"On the… slightly brighter side, I've managed to arrest the their another co-worker.", the Spymaster noted. "She sent one of my men to the hospital, but we've got her in our dungeon and believe me, we _will _find out who did this."

More than one person shuddered.

"Isn't it obvious?", the Chief Administrator asked, half-laying on the table and rapping the glass with his index finger. "Weselton. It must've been them."

Madsen shook his head.

"I'd gotten a message from Kai just before the assassination attempt.", he said and shared the content of his son's letters with the others. They were visibly shocked.

"The wife to their crown prince and their Spymaster?", Chief Administrator asked. "The hell why?"

"And what does this 'Drachner' guy has to do with it?", Chancellor added.

"The first, I have no idea. I guess they must be connected with Drachner."

"Alright, but who is he? Have you heard of him?"

Madsen nodded slowly, recalling what he managed to dig up.

"Felix Ebenezer Drachner. He's from duchy of Sirschei, from Confederacy. Started as a small-scale smuggler, but soon moved further up the ranks. By the age of twenty, he controlled most of the smugglers in Sirschei and Isenwerk. By the age of twenty seven, he controlled every major smuggler ship, bordello network and port gang all over the west coast of Inner Sea. By the age of thirty four, he controlled, directly or by proxy, the portside criminal underground of west coast, east coast bar parts of Tampere and Corona, and most of the Southern Isles. By the age of thirty six, he…" Madsen shook his head. "Dropped off the surface of Earth."

"What?", Guldbaek asked. "So he's some kind of smuggler crime king… Even this kind of people don't just… disappear."

"Well, then he's making one hell of an impression of it.", Madsen told him. "My men have been searching for him for years now and all we have is whispers and rumours that place him everywhere from Southernmost Lands to Far East. He's most likely travelling from place to place. A lot of people want him dead or imprisoned, after all."

"A lot of people such as…?", Chancellor asked.

"Well, us, Navy of the Isles is searching for him as well, Tamperan Keisarillinen Vartiointipalvelut…"

"A what?", Chief Administrator asked.

"Imperial Security Service… they have been rummaging through their and foreign ports in search of him for a decade at least… Not to mention a dozen or so minor crime bosses and some Confederate guilds that have a grudge against him. So far, though, nobody has managed to localize him."

"And now he's starting to be friends with Weasel aristocracy?", Guldbaek asked. "Well, what could you expect…"

"Actually, most of their royal family didn't know about it until recently.", Madsen pointed out. The Chancellor nodded.

"So you think Drachner's the one who hired the assassins?"

"In duchess Margaret's name, probably.", Madsen said.

"Why would he be helping them?", the Treasurer asked.

People were silent for a moment. Then Guldbaek scratched his beard and said:

"He doesn't control Weselton or Arendelle, does he?"

"No.", Madsen told him. "You think that's what he's doing?"

"Very possible. Think what would happen if he succeeded. Half of our entire royalty would be dead, and the other half is missing. He has his hooks in Weselton royal family, and our army is stuck fighting up north, except for your marines who are spread on the islands. He would have Weselton take us over… I think. Martin, who's next in line to our throne after Elsa and Anna?"

"Princess Rapunzel of Corona.", the Chancellor said immediately.

"And if she winded up dead as well?", Madsen asked.

"Then…", he gasped. "Eric of Weselton."

"Oh, dear.", the Chief Administrator said. "I think we should warn Corona…"

"Yeah…", Madsen nodded. "So this is Drachner's plan. With him controlling Margaret, and Margaret pulling Eric's strings, he'd control Corona, Arendelle and Weselton…"

Guldbaek shook his head.

"Adding to what he has now, he'd pretty much take over the entire crime world of the Inner Sea… And more than just that. He'd turn Arendelle, Corona and Weselton into his own private dens to hide in."

"And that's just half of the problem.", Madsen added. "There's the Empire. The Keisar… the KV sure won't like that… Oh, hell. We could have Tampere invasion here before the end of the year."

Everybody exchanged glances. The looks on Councilmen's faces were equally shocked, terrified and afraid.

"So what do you propose?", Sidder finally asked.

"Well… we can sue for peace and convince Charles of what we know. Prince Eric should help."

"We've been negotiating peace with Weselton for over two weeks now.", Guldbaek noted. "What makes you think Charles would suddenly get any more reasonable?"

As if on a cue, they heard a knock on the door. It opened to reveal Madsen's aide.

"What is it?", the baron asked.

"Sir, I have some good news… A message arrived from generals Berg, Kristiani and Olafsen… They've completely crushed the Weselton army in the Streams and on High Table."

Madsen's jaw hung open and then he shook his head in surprise and joy. Behind him, people seemed equally happily surprised.

"Well, that's certainly good news…", he started to say when he heard a fist hitting the table. He turned to see the Chancellor standing up and eying everyone levelly. He was half happy, half furious.

"Well, that's settles it! If Charles won't listen to reason, we'll goddamn punch him into submission!" He looked at everyone. "We'll send a message detailing everything we know so far. The ship will be accompanied by four squadrons of our navy and two… no, make it three companies of marines. Enough of goddam white gloves! Princedom of Weselton… will… surrender… unconditionally… immediately! And then we'll enter, find Hunter and Margaret and shake them until we get answers!" He looked aside. "Are your orders clear, _general_?!"

General Madsen nodded slowly, a wolfish grin spreading on his face.

"Absolutely."

""""

_If you're curious,_ _"__Keisarillinen Vartiointipalvelut" are real Finnish words. According to Google Translate (yes, yes, I know...) they mean "Imperial Security Service", just as Madsen said. Also, sorry if Elsa's nigh-immortality is somewhat Deus-Ex-Machina-esque, but I have to admit, I've written myself into a corner here, and I think it's still better than "suddenly someone jumped in and saved Elsa" solution. _


	36. Chapter 36: The pendulum ship

_Westerguard_

The sun was just setting when Seeker ran up to the huts humans were hiding in. She stopped by the entrance and stated:

"There's a uniformed patrol checking out the huts one by one. Donch'ya think it's about time to leave?"

"So it would seem.", captain Xatec answered, standing up.

"What did you say?", Anna asked and Seeker reminded herself once again that humans had this stupid thing called languages. She quickly repeated and Anna nodded, looking at Ferdinand.

"You think you can walk?"

"It's not like I can stay.", the prince noted sourly. He was leaning on the wall of the hut and the doctor, man called Coyotl, was tending to his arm yet again, with what little he had at hand. The stump seemed to have gotten better - at least that was what Seeker deduced by the fact that people no longer winced in disgust when in Ferdinand's company.

The other three Southerners were in various states of sleepy - really, it seemed to Seeker that every time she saw them, they were either eating or asleep, like man-shaped cats. One of them, their ship's first officer, Yaotl, stretched and asked:

"And where do we plan to go? I'd just like to remind you that there's very little space to play hide and seek on this island."

Northerners shot him blank looks, so Seeker sighed and translated for them.

"We certainly can't stay here.", Anna noted, helping Ferdinand stand up. "If Hans catches us again, we're frozen fish."

Expectant stares of Southerners turned to Seeker, who sighed again and translated yet another time. They nodded and Xatec said:

"Then let's leave and go uphill. Maybe we'll find some cave or something."

After yet another translation and a few decisions regarding exact course they'd take, Seeker left to scout the way as humans left the hut. She quickly trotted to where she had been spying on Weste and flattened herself against the ground, yet again cursing the snow cloud over her head. Thankfully, low and thick bush was covering her fairly well.

There were four Weste, and they were going uphill with swords and pistols. Seeker looked around and noticed other groups nearby, making their ways to another huts, visible in distance. She guessed it was a part of a bigger search. Yaotl was right, she thought, there's not much space here. We have to leave soon.

* * *

"At least we can count on them going home after night falls.", Anna noticed as they looked around their newest accommodation. The Southerners said something in his own language and Anna sighed. I wonder if I could find a teacher when I get back to Arendelle, she wondered and she smiled a bit, hoping to be able to check it soon.

"Especially seeing how there's this rain coming.", Ferdinand said, glancing at other Southerners. Two men, introduced as Itotia and Izel, were carrying some small bushes to cover the entrance to the place. The new hiding spot wasn't exactly a cave, more like a small cavern, but it provided protection from the rain they were expecting. Indeed, even before they have finished camouflaging the place, the it had already started, and by the time they were all inside, it was a downpour, with steady hum and gray wall of water falling from the sky.

Southerners and Northerners sat opposite each other and captain Xatec said something. Anna smiled mildly.

"Yeah, I appreciate that we found the cave before the rain too.", she said, not sure what the man had told her. It was a bit of an unsettling experience, being with people and yet unable to talk. Even in Hans' keep, the guard at the door spoke Islander she could understand, and further North every foreigner she talked with knew Confederate. Now all she and Southerners could do was to stare at each other and smile uncomfortably.

"I'd still say they know more of the language than they let on.", Ferdinand murmured, rubbing his arm again. Coyotl said something angrily, pointing at the action and shaking his head. The prince sighed, putting his hand down and rapping on the stone floor instead.

"Then don't you think they'd speak instead of this half-gestures, half-Seeker's-translations thing we've got going on now?", Anna asked him. Ferdinand shrugged and she folded her arms.

"Oh, come on. Now it starts to look as if you don't trust them just because they're Southerners."

"It's not about this! I told you before. They're too good at some things sailor's shouldn't be good at."

"Really? Like fighting people?"

"Look, trust me on that, I'm a sailor. Not everyone on ships is a convict running away from his past. Most guys are actually people who joined because they wanted to see the world, or some poor saps who were pressed into service, and I'll bet my ship that…" He stopped suddenly and swallowed. Anna patted him on the arm.

"You'll bet that…?", she asked calmly, trying to get his mind off the matter.

"I bet that most wouldn't know how to dispose of a guard from behind.", he finished. Anna winced.

"I still believe you're overthinking this.", she told him. "You don't know what it looks like in the South. Perhaps they're just this one-in-a-thousand crew with turbulent past. Besides, even if they're, I don't know, chief smugglers on the Stormbringing Ocean, does this really matter now? It's not like they're working for Hans and so far, we've been stuck in this together. If things go sour, we can just ditch them."

"Yeah, into the open sea.", Ferdinand said dubiously.

"Seeker can make an ice float for us."

"Maybe… where is she, for that matter?"

As if on a cue, the snow greyhound crawled under the bush and shook herself, spraying everyone around with half-melted snow.

"Hello to you too.", Ferdinand said dryly. "How's the outside?"

"I could barely see a thing", she told him, "so I guess our pursuers can't either."

She then said something to the Southerners. The captain answered her and she turned to Anna and Ferdinand.

"Manco asks what we do now, meaning tomorrow, I guess."

"Well, we can't hide forever.", Ferdinand noted. "They claim they have a ship, so maybe it's time to use it."

Seeker repeated in Southron and Yaotl spoke.

"He says it's heavily guarded, and that we'd have to sneak around the city to get to it. But, let me add, you're right, it's time we started to act." She said something to the Southerners. Anna added:

"If it'll keep on raining like this, we won't have to worry about being noticed. And the guards on their ship will probably not be as wary as they'd be if it was sunny."

Seeker translated and Anna remembered what Hans said about his brothers coming soon. Should she tell the others about it? Perhaps they should wait until Navy of the Isles arrives and then try to get to them? She considered it. When the siege started - and she couldn't really imagine any other way of taking an island such as Weselton, with its cliffs and no beaches - the curfew would probably be established, not to mention that the ships and coast would be heavily watched. It was unlikely the escapees would manage to get to friendly lines. So no, they had to leave when there was no help in sight, and they had to do this soon… provided Hans wasn't lying, of course. And even if he did, staying here would do them no good.

The Southerners were discussing something with each other until Xatec turned to Seeker and said something. She translated.

"They suggest to move out now, while the weather still favors us and not the Weste.", she said. "I hate this rain, but I guess it's the best idea."

"I like that.", Ferdinand said. Anna was slightly surprised that he would agree with 'suspicious' Southerners, but apparently he had enough common sense to look beyond his prejudice, or whatever it was that made him so distrustful of them.

"I think that's a good idea too.", she said out loud. "With this rain around…"

Ferdinand shook his head.

"We could probably stage a theater play on the pier and no one on the shore would notice."

"Then if ya'll agree, let's go.", Seeker said and presumably repeated the same to the Southerners. They stood up and Itotia sighed as they started to demolish the bush cover they had built so meticulously. Izel patted him on the arm with sour smile and the two of them left, Anna and Ferdinand following them.

Outside, it was rainy, wet, cold and windy. Anna was reminded for a moment of her hellish experience after she fell out of _Northern Wind_, which actually made her feel a bit better as she reminded herself that even if the weather was doing its best to drown her, it wouldn't manage it if the stormy sea hadn't. Still, it was uncomfortable to be whipped with water over the face, and after so long out of Arendelle, Anna had forgotten how cold the air could feel. She wrapped her arms around herself and carefully followed two Southerners on slippery grass.

After a few moments, she felt someone putting something on her back. She realized it was an unbuttoned shirt, rather thick, if completely wet, and she turned to see captain Xatec, bare-chested now that he gave his cloth away. She smiled thankfully, nodding, and he answered with similar gesture. Nods and smiles, language of all cultures.

"Isn't it too cold for you?", she asked over the loud hum of the rain, noticing with a bit of shock the amount of scars and tattoos on his chest. He shrugged with uncomfortable smile.

"Sooner or later every sailor will end up working in the storm without a shirt.", Ferdinand told her. "In the wind like this flapping cloth is rather problematic, and he sails on Stormbringer, so he must be used to the weather."

"If you say so.", Anna answered and turned back to watch her path, although the scars she noticed on Xatec's chest worried her. Could there actually be something to Ferdinand's theory?

* * *

She couldn't really tell how long did it take before they reached the familiar lonely tree by the entrance of the city, but if anything, the rain seemed to have gotten stronger. Taking cover under wide branches, the group left it to the Seeker to check out the city.

The snow creature returned to them some time later, when attempts at starting conversation had already been made and failed due to language barrier. She sat and said:

"The ship's still standing there, although I hadn't seen any guards. There's some light coming from under the deck, though, so if there are any watchmen, they're probably sitting there." She repeated and waited for the comments. Ferdinand spoke first:

"Could you ask the Southerners where the rest of their officers is? Pendulums must have huge crews."

After a moment, he got an answer.

"Xatec doesn't know, though he says the junior officers must be still aboard, because he didn't see them being led off the ship. He says only the senior officers had been taken."

Ferdinand nodded. Xatec added something.

"He says that maybe I could pass them a message from us."

"And then what?", Anna asked. "I doubt they have any weapons with them."

Seeker translated, Xatec replied, Seeker translated.

"But they could help once we started getting the ship back. He doubts they're all shackled."

"You think you could do this?", Anna asked.

"Yeah, sure. I can walk on water, remember? I'll just freeze myself a wave and peak through a window."

Ferdinand shook his head.

"If they knew what's about to happen, they might start acting suspiciously. I'd rather not alert the guards we're coming, they have enough of an advantage over us as it is."

Seeker repeated and Xatec winced unhappily. He said something.

"He says it'd be better if his men helped us."

"They'd be of little help if the guards knew we're here."

A moment for back and forth translation and:

"He says you should trust his men to keep secrets."

"No offense to them, but I doubt the guards are stupid enough to miss people talking with someone outside and then sharing what they've learned with each other."

Another translation and Yaotl started to say something when Anna came up with an idea:

"Hey, why don't we go for both? You'd simply warn Xatec's men moment before we get on board. This way we'll have an advantage of surprise, sailors will know what's happening, and the guards might even be occupied with oddly-acting prisoners enough that they won't notice us until it's too late."

Ferdinand nodded after a moment.

"Alright, this would do."

"'kay, I'll ask them.", Seeker said and spoke to Southerners. After a moment of discussion with the others, Xatec nodded to Anna and spoke.

"He says Yaotl had something similar in mind and it's good idea."

"Great, then let's not waste time."

They left the cover of the tree and started to walk towards the pier.

"Let's pretend we've got every right to be here.", Anna said.

"What, you're walking a dog in seven-people group?", Seeker asked sarcastically from under her snow cloud.

"We're getting back home after work or something."

"At midnight?", Ferdinand asked. "In this rain, we should rather trot…"

He fell silent as a pair of someones walked past them in the rain. They nodded curtly to each other and both groups continued their own way.

"Well, I guess we're not suspicious at all.", Seeker noted with a bit of a surprise.

"They couldn't see your cloud from behind us, I guess.", Ferdinand told her.

"Sure, because that's the weirdest thing here."

"Well, it would be odd to be in a port and find people weird."

As they were talking, Southerners were conversing between themselves as well in hushed tones - or, at least, as hushed as they could be in this rain. To stop the torrents of water from soaking her, Anna covered her head with Xatec's shirt, although it didn't help much, as the material was leaking.

"We are _so _going to catch cold from this."

Ferdinand just shook his head. Southerners in front of them turned and walked on the pier. They were stopped by some armed man.

"You've missed one.", Anna whispered.

"He must've arrived after I left."

A moment later, the man tumbled on the ground, having gotten a bunch of solid punches in the head. In the rain, he was barely heard. Anna looked around, but she couldn't see much beyond Ferdinand, and the lights were out. Apparently, no one noticed what had just happened.

"Well, that was quick.", Seeker said with a bit of an awe in her voice as Itotia put the man behind a crate that apparently served as his chair. This way, nobody walking on the pier would notice him, at least in the dark. He waved to the others and Xatec spoke to Seeker.

"Alright, he wants me to warn his men."

"Good luck."

"Yeah, yeah.", she jumped off the pier and on the water that instantly froze under her. The float was jumping up and down and Anna noticed, before Seeker disappeared behind the rain, that instead of walking, the snow creature was jumping from place to place.

"And what do we…", she started to ask the others, but the Southerners were already walking down the pier, Ferdinand following them closely. She ran up to them and slipped, then was almost pushed off the pier by some freak wave. She regained her balance and caught up with the others at slower speed.

"Are you alright?", Ferdinand asked quietly.

"Yep, fine. Which's Xatec's ship?"

"Uh… I hope he knows."

As they walked closer to the end of the pier, the wood dancing slightly under their feet with the waves, Anna saw a ship with light coming from the door that led under the deck. Xatec pointed at the vessel.

"_Cualli Totchtli_", he said with a smile.

"You think it's its name or means 'it's mine'?", Ferdinand said, nodding to the man with a smile.

"It sounded like a name.", Anna said. "We'll ask Seeker later. Look, she missed another guard. Sitting by the gangplank."

"Really? Something tells me she didn't even walk on the pier.", Ferdinand said, looking at Xatec and indicating the guard with his finger. The man nodded and spoke to Yaotl and Izel. They quickly closed in on the guard. He was apparently focused more on being miserable than doing what he was supposed to, because he didn't even notice the Southerners until they were already looming over him. He was quickly knocked out and Yaotl waved for the rest to follow him.

They ran on the deck and Anna looked around, whistling with awe. Even through the dark and torrents of rain she could see that _Cualli Totchtli_ was huge, even compared to the _Northern Wind_. She was pretty sure she could fit Arendelle castle's ballroom on deck and there'd still be space.

"I've never been aboard a pendulum.", Ferdinand murmured. "I wonder if the guys in the middle forget sometimes that they're on a ship."

"I guess the masts remind them.", Anna said. "Oh, look. Xatec and his men are already going under the deck."

"You think we should help them?"

"Freezing, soaked girl with no weapons whatsoever and freezing, soaked prince who's still sick from infection? Nah, I guess we'd just get in their way."

"Ah… valid point." Ferdinand turned back. "Uh, Anna? We might have a problem."

The princess looked back as well and inhaled through her teeth. Someone, a silhouette in the rain, was walking down the pier, going towards _Cualli Totchtli _with determination in his movements. Anna was sure she saw a sword.

"You think he noticed those guard they knocked out?"

"I think not, he'd be more careful then."

They both quickly crouched and crept to the high, covered railing of the ship.

"Maybe he thinks they've hidden here.", Ferdinand whispered as the man came into view. He was short, but bulky and armed with a sword.

"Let's hope he won't notice the guard under the gangplank."

"Yeah… I think the knocked-out guy's feet stick out…"

And indeed, the man did notice. He stopped in apparent surprise and looked down under the gangplank.

"Bad…", Anna whispered and jumped to her feet, then ran down the gangplank and jumped on man's back as he was standing up. He fell back in surprise and they both hit the ground. Anna shook her head and saw the man standing up quickly, then freezing in surprise as he saw her. He said something in Weste and Anna got to her feet, determined not to let him raise alarm. He started to run down the gangplank and she jumped after him, then jumped on his back. They fell to the ground again and he tried to throw her off. He almost succeeded, too, when something hit his head, then again, and he fell limp with his face half in some water puddle.

"What were you doing?!", Seeker asked as Anna stood up. "Elsa would kill me if something happened to you!"

"Well, I didn't see you trying to stop him.", Anna said and they both returned to the ship. Ferdinand was waiting for them on the pier.

"Sorry I didn't help. You kind of surprised me."

"No problem.

"On deck, they met with Xatec, who was accompanied by some strangers. He said something to Anna and Ferdinand, then started giving orders in hushed voice.

"He suggests you get under the deck.", Seeker said, "you'll just get in the way."

"He's right.", Ferdinand said and pulled Anna after him.

"Whoa, why so quick?"

"It's dry down there, and I'm completely soaked."

They got down and the sounds of rain grew muffled. There were no stairs, only ladder, and the "down" covered three floors. They got off the ladder on the middle one. The corridor was lit only by one torch, and it was surprisingly narrow, considering the size of the ship. Northerners had to flatten themselves against the wall as few crewmembers walked past them, carrying the bodies of the guards.

"I hope they're alive.", Anna murmured. Ferdinand shrugged.

"In all honesty, I don't really care."

Anna looked at him.

"Really?"

"Look, those are insurgents and people whose job is to kill us if we try to escape. Anyway, let's go deeper down."

"Why?", Anna called, following him as he made his way down the ladder. After they were out of hearing range of other crewmembers, Ferdinand spoke:

"I want to examine the ship."

"Why?"

"Just in case."

* * *

Seeker stayed aboard, curious. The masts and sails weren't even touched and instead, people were moving under the deck, shooting her surprised and curious looks. They were manning the oars, she heard them speaking. The captain was giving orders and soon the lines were thrown off and the ship started to move. Slowly. Absurdly slowly. Seeker was sure she could run a few circles around the ship, or even around the island, before they moved away from the other ships and onto the waters of the bay. Well, that's a big ship, she reminded herself, I guess it's kind of faster under sails. The splashes of oars hitting the water were virtually inaudible among the splashes of raindrops meeting the sea. Seeker walked to the railing and stood on it with her front paws, watching the island slowly moving away from her and disappearing in the rain. She couldn't even see the keep, the rain was so dense. She hoped the keep can't see them either.

She turned back and noticed that what little of light was there was put out and the entire deck was plunged in darkness. There were surprisingly few people aboard - practically only Manco Xatec, three sailors by the steering wheel and Izel, who was standing on the ladder, apparently passing information between the captain and whoever was down there. After a moment he came out and Yaotl came aboard. Izel walked down and first officer started to talk with the captain. Curious, Seeker walked to them and stopped where they couldn't see her, listening.

"…we do about them?", Yaotl was asking.

"What do you mean, what do we do about them?", the captain answered. "We get rid of them somewhere in the Isles and get back to the Stormbringer."

"'Get rid of them' as in…?"

There was a moment of silence and what Seeker imagined was the captain's glare before Xatec spoke:

"Yao, are you crazy? They're the crown princess of some Northern nation whose queen made and sent this Seeker creature, and the brother to the king of the Isles. What do you think I meant by 'get rid of'? We put them on the shore and politely say goodbye."

I don't like what Yaotl was suggesting here, Seeker thought. There's something up with this crew…

"The prince already suspects us, and what if he finds something?"

"Yao, what didn't you understand? We can't sell them and we certainly can't kill them!"

"Why not the latter? The only person who can guess we're travelling together is this Hans, and who would believe anything he says? They'd rather assume he killed them himself!"

I really, really don't like the implications here, Seeker thought, tense. What would Ferdinand find that Yaotl would consider killing both him and Anna?

"Look, we don't have to kill them.", the captain said.

"What stops you? The princess? It's not like you haven't killed women before."

"Sure, just not the noble ones."

"What the difference?"

"The difference is, now we don't have to do this. They might not find anything."

Yaotl sighed with exasperation. Just what could Ferdinand find?, Seeker asked in her head again.

"Yao, you're not going to do something I wouldn't like, now would you?" The captain's voice was ice cold. After a moment of silence, the first officer said:

"No, I won't. But I _will _keep an eye on them."

"I wouldn't expect less. Just remember that they have this snow creature with them, and it has claws."

"Sure. I'll try not to look suspicious."

"Good man. Would you show them to their cabin?"

"Which one would it be?"

"I don't know. You're my left hand, find something."

"Thanks…"

"Hey, don't worry. In day or two we'll reach Schleich. We can drop them there."

Yaotl must've nodded, and then he walked to the ladder. Alright, Seeker thought, backing off, there's something wrong with those people. The question is, should I poke my nose in and risk Anna and Ferdinand becoming kind of dead, or should I stay away from the case and risk missing something important?

* * *

Ferdinand walked across the hull in tiptoes, counting.

"Alright, there's something wrong here.", he declared.

"You've said it like a thousand times already.", Anna reminded him, clearly tired. Ferdinand sighed. She probably thought he was being paranoid. Well, sometimes paranoiacs were right.

"And I stand by my point. Look, there's at least a meter's space between this wall and the wall of the next hold."

That caught her attention.

"There's some hidden room?"

"That's be my guess."

She nodded.

"I don't think captain Xatec would take kindly to you ripping the planks off to break into his secret room."

"I won't be destroying the hull, don't worry. There's got to be some way to enter this place."

He closed his eyes and started to knock on the wall with his hand, listening with his ear pressed to uneven wood.

"Watch for any crew members.", he told Anna.

"Don't worry, I am. Anything?"

"Not yet…" He was sure he heard an empty space behind the wall. Now he simply had to find a way… He started to press the planks and try to fit his fingers between them, hoping to find some way to open the hidden space. But he couldn't. Perhaps the entrance was in another room, or in the corridor…

_click_

Ha! He smiled and pulled out the plank.

"I found something!", he whispered and leaned inside. His jaw fell open. "Oh, crap."

"What is…? Wait, close it. Someone's coming.", Anna whispered.

"Ah… right, right. On it."

He quickly fitted the plank back, then turned and leaned on the wall, fighting the urge to pretend to do something innocently. A moment later, Yaotl came and started to show them out. Ferdinand smiled and followed him, hoping the first officer didn't see the tickle of cold sweat running down his spine.

Inside the room, he saw a collection of flags. And the first among them was large, featureless, blood-red one.

The pirate flag meaning 'we give no quarter'.


	37. Chapter 37: Army blues

_Arendelle camp_

Berg had just finished his dinner when messenger arrived. The young soldier saluted by the entrance to the tent and said:

"Sir, we've made contact with First Corps and general Simani. He ask whether he's needed and where."

"Ebbe?" Well, took him long enough, Berg thought with a frown. He must be mightily pissed that he missed pretty much the entire Tampani campaign.

Messenger gave the general a folded letter and Berg smiled, reading. Ebbe Simani _was _annoyed that he couldn't get here any faster.

"Well, seems like we've got an ample candidate for Weasel catching."

The small, few hundred strong group which had managed to escape what soldiers were calling the Battle of Tampani was still on the run from the Royal Army, and what advantage Arendellans had in morale and physical state, Weasels were making up for with sheer determination. The Fourth Corps' small numbers and the fact that Jens and Rasmus took most of the horses was hurting them now, as they couldn't catch up with them with sufficient numbers to perform any successful attack, and Weasels didn't feel like stopping, even though they must've been exhausted now. It wasn't a huge problem at the moment, but in a few days they'd reach populated areas and a few hundred starving, despaired men falling on a small town was not an image Berg would like to see in flesh.

Now, however, with Simani and First Corps' love affair with cavalry, something could be done about this. Berg stood up and grabbed paper and pen from his desk, then quickly sketched the situation for Ebbe and asked if the general could do some Weasel hunt for him. He then gave the message to the runner.

"That's to be in general's hands around yesterday."

"On my way, sir.", the soldier answered and sped out of the tent.

Alone again, Berg put out the map and added small marks to represent First Corps and estimated position of Weasel runaways. This taken care of, he finished drinking his we-might-as-well-call-it-tea, known also as Supplies-just-don't-care-do-they?, and frowned in disgust. Cold, it tasted even worse. At least when it was nearly boiling, the tongue didn't feel this… whatever was in it.

Leaving the atrocious drink in his tent, he came out for a small walk. The Arendelle army had left the bottom of the Stone Streams and moved to the top of them, on the High Table, giving everyone an amazing view of the mountains, made even better by the weather, which finally stabilized into something pleasant, with snow creaking under people's feet and temperature neither bone-freezing cold nor ice-melting warm. There were few clouds in the sky, and none was supposed to bring rain or snowfall anytime soon. Generally, the weather seemed to be in as good a mood as people. Of course, the reasons for this were rather different. Ever since the news of Weasels' crushing defeat had reached the camp, people had been in state of half-relaxed, almost party attitude, and everyone seemed to think that the war is close to being over. After all, haven't they crushed two Weselton armies and killed their generals? What was there left that the Weasels could throw at them?

Berg stopped by the edge of the camp, looking at flat plateau of High Table stretching before him. He didn't share his subordinates' good mood. Windsor and Potter might be dead, but there was still general Carter, and one would be fool to assume that the man would let himself be pinned down as finely as those two had. Moreover, even if he went against Arendellans and lost, what next? Invasion of Weselton? That was what Bjorn, Rasmus and Jens were thinking about in the beginning, but the Queen had forbidden them from going beyond the High Table. On the other hand, what could she do? Cut off their supplies? The three corps could support themselves on Weselton. Send Ebbe and Hakan to catch them? The latter's marines were no land fighters, and the former alone didn't have the numbers, not to mention that Her Majesty clearly wished to avoid a civil war. So the plan was doable… and yet Berg felt unsure.

Two months back, we were all rookies when it comes to actual experience in war, he thought. Now we're all veterans, and the war isn't glorious thing at all. It's mud, it's starving, it's hiding in the shadows, it's brutal combat where more depends on luck than on skill… Berg smiled sourly, remembering the enthusiasm with which they had been making their plans a month or two ago. He wondered if Jens and Kristiani saw how naïve they had all been back then. Before this war broke out, they were planning a great conquest. Now Berg could see realistically that it was a daydream. It would probably end with burning villages, slaughtered civilians and war of attrition that would hold Arendellan forces in tight lock for a long time. Berg had been on one side of guerrilla war once, and there was little on High Table to support such form of fight. He wasn't particularly eager to see how this looks from the side being attacked, and in environment that would favour guerrillas.

He took a deep breath, summing it all up in his head. So, we get as far as to the end of High Table. And then we stop, just as the Queen had ordered. And… well, we leave it to the diplomats, I think. We have them for some reason, after all.

Another sour smile appeared on his face as he turned back from the vista and walked back towards his tent. I wonder if Rasmus and Jens see things the same way I do now, he thought. I dearly hope they do.

* * *

_High Table_

Vincent Meyers pressed his hand to his stomach, trying to silence it when it rumbled again. He swallowed. He hadn't had anything to eat for the last four days and even before that, he hadn't eaten all that much. He could feel energy evaporating from him as he was trying to get to his own lines.  
He wasn't sure if he could get to his own lines.

He looked around, at the giant stretch of land that was the High Table plateau, hoping that he would see some of his fellow scouts. There were none and Meyers sighed, falling to the ground on his back, cursing when crossbow pressed at it and looking accusingly towards the sun, shining brightly, happily and with no care in the world. He didn't have any food. He didn't have anything to heat ice he was eating for water. He didn't feel particularly inclined to eat his crossbow bolts, and only some deeply-ingrained feeling of being a soldier had stopped him so far from abandoning his weapon. The crossbow was growing steadily heavier for him, though. Perhaps I should leave it?, Meyers asked the sun.

It didn't answer him. Vincent shook his head and sat, wincing, before he could fall asleep. He feared he wouldn't wake up. He was starving, alone, and he felt as if he had been going in circles for the last two days. No, that's impossible, he told himself. I'm a scout. I can do better than going in circles.  
It didn't stop his suspicions from growing. He stood up and took a moment to take his shaking legs back under control, then looked around. The plateau looked identical in whichever direction he was looking, and he stared at the mountains for a moment, trying to discern whether that were the ones he should go towards. Probably… or were those the ones he was running away from? Maybe…

For some time, he was just standing there, paralysed with indecision. Should I go there? Should I go back? Or perhaps it's a completely wrong mountain range and I'm going towards the North Pole?

The thought made him smile for some reason. His chuckle quickly turned into hysterical laughter and he fell to the ground again, unable to stop and unable to get back up, just laughing, curling on the floor, holding his stomach and laughing, and laughing, and he didn't even know what was so funny. I'm so dead!, he told himself, shaking with laughter. What does it matter which way I go? I either make it to our lines, surrender to merchies or die of hunger! What's the difference?

He almost managed to calm himself down when he saw the snow that got in his hood and another spasm of laughter turned into hysteria. Oh, and I've been drinking ice for the last days. Dear, I must've caught like twenty different diseases by now! Ha! Why care in which direction I'm going? I'll die before I reach anything! He grabbed his hurting stomach stronger and gasped for air, trying to calm down, but he just couldn't stop or control the spasm or think. I'm dead, I'm dead, what's the difference? I could just die of laughter here!

He finally managed to calm down and turned on his back, wincing as he felt the crossbow under his back. Great, he told himself. If I wasn't exhausted then, I definitely am now. What took me?

He slowly sat again, rubbing his forehead with snow-covered gloves. At least he wasn't freezing… yet. But what good would this do when he had no idea where he was, and he had no idea whether the direction he was going in was the right one? He took a breath and looked back up. I was right, it doesn't really matter. I either live in Weselton, live as a prisoner of war, die by merchies' hand or die by illness, or cold, or hunger, or exhaustion… Yeah, dying was the most probable outcome. He winced to himself. I might just as well toss a coin and decide by this. Oh, wait. I don't have a coin… He chuckled again and then quickly covered his mouth with his hand, waiting for another attack of hysteria. It didn't come, though. He breathed deeply and stood up, looking at the mountain range he was going towards. He could simply continue in this direction and let the luck decide his fate.

It wasn't as if he had any other option.

At least the snow isn't deep, he decided a few hours later as the sun was slowly going down. It would disappear behind the mountain range he was going towards, so he was probably heading in the right direction. Or was he? The sun was setting on the… Wait. He stopped and rubbed his forehead again. The sun was setting on the _west_, right? Or was it east? And which direction did he plan to go in, anyway?

Ah, I don't care, he decided after a moment and started to walk again. The sun would set soon, so he had to find some hiding… or should he? Would he actually wake up after this time, or would the thaw the next spring reveal his frozen remains? Or perhaps there'd be no thaw and he'd remain buried there forever? He sighed and kept on walking.

When the sun touched the mountaintop, he was staggering rather than walking. Half-blinded by the sun, he wondered whether he was actually moving forward, or was he just making a few steps, then a few steps back, or perhaps he had turned around and didn't notice? He felt like stopping, but the only thing he was sure of was that he couldn't stop. If he stopped, he'd fall. If he fell, he'd die. No, he couldn't stop walking. Or staggering. Or whatever he was doing right now…

It took his exhausted mind a while before he registered a sound that, when he thought about it, must've been there for some time already. It took him even more to process it and realized that it's the sound of horse hooves hitting the snow and rock beneath it. And finally, it took him even more to connect the dots and figure it's someone riding a horse and coming in his direction, and that this someone could be either merchies or Weseltonians. He rose his head, shielding his face from the sun and narrowing his eyes. The three figures on top of the horses that were moving towards him were black silhouettes against white and golden sunset. When they moved closer, he blinked a few times. Someone was speaking.

"…hear me? You're not a deserter, are you?"

Deserter? No, no… He shook his head weakly, trying to see the face, but it seemed like black shadow in the blinding light of setting sun.

"So what are you doing here? You're one of ours, right? Are you from general Windsor's army? What happened to it?"

He nodded again. Yes, he was from general Windsor's army… or was he from Potter's? He thought for a moment. Did it matter? What was the man asking about again? Is Meyers one of theirs? Is he? Is he not? He was from Weselton scouts. He was from captain's force. He was… he was…

"Hey, are you alright? Frank, grab him, I think he'll faint here any moment now… Hey scout! Listen to me. Look at me. Why are you here? What happened? Where's our army?"

Frank. Frank. It wasn't merchie name. It was Weseltonian name. So this are Weseltonians. He had actually been going in the right direction. He made it… He made it? He felt like laughing again, but then his legs gave up under him and he fell to the ground. Something grabbed him and there was a face in front of him, but it was blurred.

"Scout, report. What happened to our army?"

Report. Yes. Yes. Report. What did he have to report?

"There… there is no army any more…", he said and let the darkness take him.

* * *

Lieutenant George Gardner rode into the camp, glancing behind at the man in scout uniform strapped to the saddle. After giving this ominous bit of information, the man fainted, so George left his two companions to finish the patrol and returned with him to the camp. The scout certainly needed a healer.

The captain Gardner winded up serving under walked out and looked at him curiously.

"Where's the rest of your group? Why are you back already?"

Gardner nudged Traveller to turn so that the man could see the scout.

"We've found him.", he said. "He needs medical care, and I think you'd like to hear what he's saying, sir."

The captain's eyes widened as he walked closer.

"Is he…? George, he looks dead to me."

"Oh?" Gardner jumped down from Traveller's back. The scout hadn't die on the way here, had he? Cavalier checked his breath and pulse. "No, he's alive."

"Good. You're right. Take him to the doctor."

George nodded and started untying the line that held the man in the saddle. The scout slid down and Gardner grabbed him, then nodded to one of the servants who cared fom the horses. The boy took Traveller's rains and walked away with the horse, while Gardner started to go towards doctor's small cart. The scout was alarmingly easy to carry.

"What did he say?", the captain asked, walking next to him.

"I'm not sure if you want it to be public, sir.", George told him, looking around.

The party that had set out to see what's going on in the High Table had stopped for the night. People were setting up small tents and putting the oiled fabric "floors" so that the snow wouldn't get in. It wasn't perfect, of course, but it would have to do. Some had managed to get a place on supply carts, or bribed the drivers so that they'd keep place for them. Gardner wished he could do this, but it's been ages since he had any money with him.

People were glancing at him and the man he was carrying with curiosity as he walked past them towards the doctor's cart. The healer was sitting on the edge of it, smoking a pipe, but put it away from his mouth when he noticed George and the captain.

"What is… who's that?"

"Scout from Windsor's army.", George told him. "We've found him an hour ago."

The doctor nodded, then blew his pipe and used its heat to light up an oil lamp in the cart.

"Alright, give me a moment…" he put the pipe away and pulled out a man-sized mat which he then stretched on the wooden floor. "Give him here…"

Two cavalrymen put the man inside and Gardner gently took the crossbow off the scout's back. The doctor rolled the man to see his face and started to unbutton his jacket, while his assistant started to pull out various blankets and heat the water. George and his captain left the tent not to take space and Gardner walked to Traveler.

Having taken care of the horse, he navigated his way in the dark back to the cart. The doctor was smoking pipe again, looking inside.

"How is he?", he called.

"Mostly starved and exhausted.", the man told him. "I've managed to make him drink some hot tea, but now he's sleeping. I'm not sure when he'll wake up."

"But you're sure he _will _wake up?"

"Fairly sure, yes. He's feverish, but he should survive this, and he has no frostbite, or at least nothing serious. It's mostly exhaustion that I'm worried about, this and any illnesses he might've caught in this snow."

George nodded, said goodnight and went back to the tent he shared with two other people. He was worried. 'There is no army anymore'. There were two Weselton corps out there. Was one of them wiped out? Then why hadn't the scout go to another, but spend what must've been days trying to get here? Then were both of them destroyed? Did Arendelle actually win this campaign? The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

You better wake up soon, he told the sleeping scout, because we're going into situation we know absolutely nothing about.

* * *

_Arendelle camp_

The Second and Third Corps hadn't returned the way they came, by the High Table and Tampani, but had taken a shortcut and walked through the rubble in the mouth of the trail, which was why they were already by the Streams. Obviously, everyone was happy to see them arrive, and they, in turn, were happy to share the news of the battle. In fact, Berg suspected that this was the reason why Jens and Rasmus had climbed all the way to his tent and were now sharing a bottle of well-hidden whiskey by the table and single lit lamp.

"So Simani will clean up this mess with the escapees?", Kristiani asked and then chuckled. "Oh, dear, you know he'll be just insufferable for _years _now?"

"I can imagine.", Jens said and took a sip. He swallowed and added. "I'm sure, though, that our soldiers will repay in kind by spending years pointing out to his men that they were late."

"Yay for inter-corps rivalry!", Berg declared, rising his glass in mock toast. The others joined and glass rang. They drank and Kristiani refilled his glass before asking:

"And what do we do now? I assume taking all High Table in the Queen's name would be in order?"

"Yes, that would be a good idea.", Berg told him, wondering whether to breach the subject of not invading Weselton. "If we get as far as to Rollinson Gate, there's no way they'd surprise us like this again."

"Why stop at Rollinson Gate?", Kristiani asked. "Weren't we talking about going further? Come on, people, Weaseltown's waiting!"

It seems I'll have to talk about it, Berg thought, looking into his own glass. He rose his head and said:

"You know, for now let's see if we'll make it to the Rollinson Gate. Weasels still have general Carter, and he might be problematic."

Rasmus rolled his eyes.

"Yeah. Because if we've managed to destroy two armies, the third one will be a huge problem." He took another sip and added, "Not to mention that now we have Simani who's probably _itching _to get into combat."

Berg sighed inwardly. I'll have to find some way to convince him…

Unexpectedly, Jens rushed to his aid.

"I'd actually agree with Bjorn on that one, Rasmus. Little steps. First let's get to the Rollinson gate, then we'll see what the situation is. Perhaps the diplomats will work out a solution first. And mind, the Queen had ordered us to stop by the end of the High Table - which is Rollinson gate."

Kristiani sighed.

"Alright, alright, let it be. For now." He looked up. "But look, we've agreed that Weselton's dangerous. Won't it be doubly so now, even if the peace treaty is signed?"

"Perhaps.", Berg said. "But I doubt the conquest of Weselton would be easy, and did you think whether we could _keep _it? Her Majesty sure won't support us if she has already decided where should our offensive stop."

"You know, a month back you were talking quite the opposite thing.", Rasmus noted sourly, pointing at Berg and leaning closer. "You said something along the lines of 'she'll have to agree' and 'we'll convince her'. Now look, we're freakin' saviours of this country! I bet you she'll throw a huge-ass party in our honour back in Arendelle! Don't you think we've actually gotten enough power to convince her?"

"Now she won't listen to us because she knows what we've been scheming. She has known for some time already.", Berg told him. "She'll throw a party with one hand, but keep a dagger in the other."

Kristiani snorted.

"Well, she wouldn't know if somebody didn't prove too soft-hearted to kill one man when he had a chance!"

Berg jumped to his feet, rage boiling with him, and leaned to Rasmus.

"_Don't you dare_-!"

"You want everyone to hear?!", Jens snapped. He glared at Berg, then look at Rasmus. "And what the hell what this supposed to be?!"

Right. Right. Berg took a deep breath, closing his eyes and calming down. He sat back and opened his eyes. Rasmus was staring in his glass.

"Oh… Damn it, Bjorn. I'm sorry. I think I'm getting drunk."

"Looks like it.", Berg growled quietly. Olafsen put his glass on the table.

"Yeah, it's about time we stopped drinking. But look, Rasmus, it's true. Now we're heroes, but whatever led to the situation where Her Majesty knows about our plan, the fact is, we're one false move from treason accusation."

"Sure, but she won't execute people who saved her country. Imagine how badly this would look."

"I never said she'll make it a public thing.", Rasmus noted. "Remember what happened to last baron Rødaggry after Hakan worked out that the man's selling weapons to pirates?"

"Not really.", Berg told him. "I only know they couldn't hang him for some reason."

"His sister was married to the new-at-the-time Chancellor. He disappeared on the sea. Or so it seemed." He sighed. "And that was during the last king's rule. I'm pretty sure Agdar told his daughter about this way of solving problems."

"And I'm pretty sure Her Majesty wouldn't do this.", Kristiani said. "She doesn't seem like this kind of a person to me."

"Perhaps. But Hakan Madsen? Does he seem like this kind of a person to you? Because I'm pretty sure he didn't tell Agdar what happened to Rødaggry."

There was silence for a moment and then Rasmus nodded sourly.

"Alright. I see it. In the eyes of the Queen, we're almost-traitors, and we better behave or else." He stood up, leaving the glass. "And on this cheerful note, I'll leave you and go to sober up. Goodnight!"

"Goodnight.", Jens told him. Bjorn nodded and Kristiani left.

"Well", Olafsen murmured, looking at the glass. "So alcohol doesn't make man feel better after all."

"Apparently.", Berg agreed. "You think it'd be unprofessional if I pulled out this bottle of vodka I have and we drank ourselves into unconsciousness?"

"Very." Jens agreed. "Bring it on."

* * *

_High Table_

"Hey. You seem to be doing better already."

Vincent opened his eyes and blinked a few times. It was warm and pleasant, and somebody with his native accent was talking to him. He smiled a bit and then looked around. It was early morning and he was in some cart. There was a man sitting on the bench on the right, smoking a pipe of nice sweet smell.

"Uhm, where…?"

"Seventh Cavalry Regiment, First Division, Third Corps, Weselton Army. Currently camping on the High Table. Specifically, you're in doctor's - that is, my - cart." The man put his pipe away. "I'm Jethro Deary. Want any food?"

Vincent nodded eagerly.

"Absolutely."

Deary helped him to sit and gave Vincent a steaming hot bowl of soup. Meyers ate all and looked at the man.

"Can I have more, please?"

"Whoa, people usually don't like my cooking this much." The doctor smiled sourly. "Sorry, but perhaps later. If you eat too much after starving, you'll end up vomiting most of it."

"Uh. No, then perhaps I'll wait…"

"Good. Tell me, what's your name?"

"Uhm, sergeant Vincent Meyers. Scout Company, Second Corps."

"Right. Okay, Meyers, wait for me here. The major wanted to know when you wake up. He wants to hear what happened to First and Second Corps. You were rather ominous about it."

"Right, of course." Meyers didn't mind. He felt as if he had never been in such a comfortable place in his life.

The major arrived a moment later. He was a huge man with a moustache that would put a broom to shame.

"Good morning… Meyers, is it?" Vincent nodded. "Alright, I've got a few questions for you."

The 'few questions' stretched well into midmorning, and by the end Meyers felt like someone took his brain and squeezed all knowledge out of it. The major wanted to know everything about the campaign, from what was happening, through the morale and the final battle, to Meyers' estimate of merchies' strength and disposition. Finally, Deary stepped in.

"He still needs rest, major."

Meyers heard this with relief. He was feeling sleepy again.

"Alright. I already know what I have to." The major nodded to the doctor and turned back to Vincent. "That's it, sergeant. Rest."

"Yes, sir." Meyers was more than happy to comply. The major left and Vincent heard him speaking to somebody.

"We're going back. There's no point going into the maw of Arendelle army, and general Carter must hear about this."

We're going home. Good. Meyers slid down on the floor…

When Deary came to ask if the scout wants to eat something, he found him asleep again.


	38. Chapter 38: Goodbyes and helloes

_Weste-Schleich Passage_

Aboard his flagship _Eagle of Emblems_, Prince Michael von Schwalbe of the Southern Isles rose the spyglass to his eye and looked through it at the expanse of water that separated the mountainous, sprawling island of Schleich from small Westerguard. Way south, great dark clouds were amassing over the horizon as the Stormbringing Ocean was doing what it was named for. The graphite wall under the clouds suggested that the rain had already started there, and in the skies, bright blue flashes of lighting could be seen.

"Looks like this one's going to be big, your grace.", the expeditionary squadron's commander, one Alschwanzen, said, standing next to the prince. Over them, the slowly darkening sky was virtually cloudless, and all around the wind was blowing north as the storm front was pushing the air out of its way, forcing all the ships to go west rather than southwest they intended. Michael's well-honed naval instincts which every Islander noble claimed to have been born with suggested that they should change tack soon, but he decided to leave the decision to commodore Alschwanzen. Everybody liked to think they had the last word in any matter, after all.

"What do you suggest, then, commodore?", Michael asked, lowering the spyglass and looking at the commodore with curious, know-nothing smile of a landlubber. He had chosen Alschwanzen to command the squad by the virtue of the man being a glory hound and attention-hungry, and the prince wasn't disappointed by sailor's reaction. The captain, his ego obviously bolstered, straightened and told Michael with know-it-all tone of voice:

"Well, sir, I assume you'd like to begin the negotiations or assault at Westerguard immediately after arrival, which would be rather problematic right now - you see, we can't really hold our position with wind like this. We might even risk losing some of the ships."

I _know_, you moron, Michael thought with annoyance, but nodded, keeping curious smile on his face. People were fragile puppets to manipulate, and he had put a lot of effort into melding this one to shape that fit him. Full of himself, yet perfectly obedient when the right strings were pulled.

"Then what should we do?", Michael asked.

"Well, your grace, I would suggest returning to Schleichesberg to weather the storm in favorable conditions, and come to Westerguard after it calms down."

Michael nodded thoughtfully, as if he hadn't reached the same conclusion upon noticing the building-up storm.

"Well, commodore, that sounds like a good proposition.", he said cheerfully. "Can we do this, then?"

"Oh, of course, your grace. Right away." Alschwanzen nodded vigorously and returned to his ship, bellowing orders with screechy, hard to bear voice. Sure, he was fairly capable commander, but it was Michael's personal opinion that the man shouldn't've gotten promoted beyond a captain. He was ordering the smallest things, as if his crew wouldn't realize that to fly a signal flag, one had to find the flag in the first place, or which lines were necessary to change a tack. It would be offending to any specialist, but sailors, the "pride of the Isles", were especially touchy about this.

Behind Alschwanzen's back, Michael waited until more than a few people were looking his way and then frowned at the commodore, letting mild disgust show on his face. One of the sailors who noticed it glanced at Alschwanzen and rolled his eyes, another smiled sourly. Michael turned back to the sea and raised the spyglass to his face, hiding a smile of satisfaction behind it. He had spread the rumor aboard all ships that he was saddled with Alschwanzen by his _dear _king Friedrich, and the fact that he was often showing his suffering caused by interacting with the commodore had helped him win over many sailors and officers alike.

All in all, he decided, they might be more loyal to me that Friedrich by the time we return to Koenigsberg.

Michael smiled again, scanning the horizon and noticing… he leaned forward, curious, and then cursed and grabbed the rail as the ship started to turn, changing the tack. He jumped between the sailors busy with the lines and onto the other side, then grabbed the spyglass dangling from his wrist again and leaned closer, looking. Was it just his imagination, or was there some ship sailing along the storm front? It was hard to say at this distance, not to mention that it looked more like blurred dot than any actual thing…

A higher wave rose and he couldn't see it anymore. Well, maybe it was just something on the spyglass…

* * *

_Stormbringer's edge_

"We're swimming in the wrong direction.", Ferdinand whispered, looking north from _Cualli Totchli_ and leaning on ship's railing. Standing on two paws next to him, Seeker eyed him curiously.

"How do you know?", she asked. Ferdinand still wasn't sure how she could speak, or where did her mind come from, but over the last few days, he stopped caring. He rubbed his arm's stump and answered:

"It's the Stormbringer, and a storm is coming, so the wind is blowing due north. We should be broad-reaching, if not running, and instead we're in some weird place between beam-reaching and sailing close-hauled, and we're going straight east."

"I've got _no _idea what you've said after 'should be', but 'kay, if you say so." Seeker turned to glance towards the storm front on ship's sideboard side. Ferdinand did so as well. The rain could already be heard here. The storm looked nasty, to say the least, and back when he still commanded a ship, Ferdinand would never sail with _Northern Wind _into it…

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, banishing the images he had been seeing in his nightmares. Gone, he told them. You're gone. Over. And… what was I thinking about?

He sighed and shook his head, opening his eyes. The storm was certainly a powerful one, perhaps one of the first big winter monsters, as they were usually called. Early time for one, but freak weather happened from time to time. The crew of _Cualli Totchli_, though, seemed unperturbed, continuing to do their job with perhaps a single glance towards the thick, gray mass of clouds.

Ferdinand turned back.

"I wonder why we won't go north.", he told Seeker. "The captain said he wants to get rid of the three of us as quickly as possible, didn't he?"

"Yeah. Any ideas?"

Ferdinand shook his head.

"Nothing. But it's strange. _Totchli _has no supplies, but it has three passengers that can get nosy. If I were Xatec, I'd like to resupply as fast as possible and be on my merry way home."

"Perhaps he has different plans. We might've not heard it all.", Seeker noted. "Maybe Yaotl convinced him to take you two hostage and demand ransom or something."

"With you aboard? I wouldn't place bets on their survival…"

He stopped, hearing footsteps behind him, and turned in alarm, expecting a sailor who overheard a bit too much. Instead, it was Anna, wrapped in borrowed, too big storm cloak. She stopped by the rail, grabbing it with one hand, and said:

"Yaotl is already showing us under the deck.", she told them. "What do you think?"

"I think we could still outrun the storm, if we turned more north.", Ferdinand told her, gloomy. Despite its ludicrousness, Seeker's idea was growing more probable.

The snow creature told Anna what they were talking about and the princess nodded.

"Maybe Xatec wants to avoid something.", she said, lowering her voice.

"What could he be thinking about?", Ferdinand asked. "He was on Westerguard with no news far longer than us. If there was some pirate-catching operation going on in the south, I'd be more likely to know this than him."

Anna shrugged.

"I don't know. But if you're right and they are pirates ready to kill us, I'm afraid it would be actually safer to hide under the deck. Not to mention…" She turned to the storm and swallowed visibly. "This doesn't look inviting."

Ferdinand nodded slowly, remembering that Anna's parents had died in a storm while on the way back from the Isles, in what Navy's investigators deemed to be a winter monster gone way north. The prince decided not to mention to her that what she was looking at was likely the same kind of storm that had killed half of her closest family.

"Alright.", he said. "Let's go under the deck."

* * *

They had two small cabins for themselves, but they decided to stay in one in this weather. Ferdinand looked around for any loose objects, while Anna was sitting on the small bed, looking cautiously at the wall.

"It's not the hull.", the prince noted, checking if the drawer is closed properly.

"Sure… But if the water would enter the ship, it would get in our cabin this way, right?"

Ferdinand remembered something his father had told him once - the more you know something, the less you fear it. He decided to explain.

"Not really. Most likely, it would break in through one of the rooms adjacent to the hull. Then it would flow into the corridor through the door and enter all the rooms on the way before it'd reach us." He rose his eyes. "Don't worry, we wouldn't miss it happening. Upon breaching the hull, we'd hear the mother of all cracks and the sound of water entering the ship is unmistakable."

"If you say so…", Anna said slowly.

"Besides", Seeker, sitting on the floor, noted, "you've got me to pull you to safety, huh? And I'm ice, I'll float."

"Right. True.", Anna nodded and closed her eyes for a moment. "I just remember what happened during the last storm we've been in."

"There's no Hans or Hauser to open fire at us now.", Ferdinand noted. "Not to mention that we won't be coming aboard, so no freak wave will push you off the deck. And then there's Seeker."

"True.", Anna admitted, looking at the wall once again, and then glancing at the candle standing on a drawer. "We'll have to put it out, won't we?"

"Mhm. Wouldn't like to have fire on a ship."

"Right." She leaned closer and puffed, and the room was plunged into darkness.

After a few more minutes, the faint swinging of the ship stopped, and the sounds outside seemed to have calmed down.

"The storm receded or what?", Anna asked.

"Nah. You know this saying, calm before the storm?"

"Mhm. Let me guess, based on reality?"

"Pretty much."

Soon, the ship started to swing stronger from side to side, although for Ferdinand, it was still much smaller movement that he expected. The giant ship was absurdly stable. Then torrents of wind hit it with loud howling, and after a moment they were joined by crescendo choir of giant raindrops hitting the hull. The ship leaned heavier on the wind and Ferdinand winced, starting to feel the floor move under him. The ship leaned back and rain hit stronger, louder, more numerous. The ship leaned again and wood creaked under it. Ferdinand could feel _Totchli_ speed up, as more wind was blowing in the sails.

Sometime later, it was a full-blown storm. Outside there was steady rumble, staccato of rain, bangs of lightning and roars of sea and wind trying to force the ship into surrender. _Totchli _was swinging from side to side, leaning stronger to the left. In the darkness under the deck, Ferdinand cursed quietly. It's been ages since he's last been under the deck for the storm, and he wished nothing but being able to get aboard. Not that the crew would let him… _Crack!_

"Was this hull breach?!", Anna asked quickly, her voice loud over the rumble and cracks and creaking.

"Sounded like lightning to me!", Seeker called.

"She's right! And the ship must've swam into storms like this before!", Ferdinand added. "Something like this won't even scratch the paint!"

In the dark, he glimpsed Anna nodding, but grabbing the smoothed edge of the drawer.

* * *

It was some time later and the ship was swinging widely, but not to the sides. They must've changed the course at one point, and were now going definitely close-hauled, perhaps on the edge of no-go zone, as close to the wind as the ship could, so that they would cut the waves instead of being pushed left and right by them. Now they were diving and then rising, the wood creaking heavily, but nowhere near alarming, practically drowned by booms and cracks of the storm.

Anna had fitted herself between bed and drawer, so that the constant swings wouldn't throw her back and forth, Ferdinand was sitting on the other side of the drawer, balancing with his legs and hand, and Seeker seemed to have frozen herself to the floor. Suddenly, she rose her head and called:

"You know, I've been thinkin'! About what we were talking about on the deck!"

"And?!", Ferdinand asked.

"They have this high platform on the mast to watch the sea, right?!"

"Crow's nest, yes! And?!"

"Perhaps they were going east because they saw something to the north?!"

"Like what?!"

"Dunno! Pirate patrol?!"

A lightning stroke with a crack. After the thunder passed, Anna spoke up:

"Navy of the Isles! Hans was suggesting they'd be there soon!"

Really?

"Now you're telling me about this?!", Ferdinand asked.

"I figured if we waited for them, we'd never get off the island!"

Ferdinand clenched his teeth and then nodded.

"Tru-" He didn't finish when a strong dive threw him on the wall. He hit it with a crack and winced, feeling pain erupt in his stump.

"You 'kay?!", Seeker asked.

"Fine! I've got an idea! How about we ditch _Totchli _now, jump and let Seeker take us north, to ours?!"

"In this weather?!", Anna asked incredulously.

"I've been running in the storms before!", Seeker answered. "I think it could work!"

"Are you sure it's not better to wait until it ends?!"

"We don't know how south we'll end up!", Seeker noted.

"And we don't know if the Navy will still be there by that time!", Ferdinand added.

"We've got no idea if it's there at all!", Anna called.

"We could at least get to Schleich!", the prince told her.

For a moment, the only sound in the cabin was roar and thunder and creaking of the wood. The ship's prow rose again and Ferdinand slid back to the drawer, then was thrown forward again. He cursed and positioned himself so that his legs wouldn't let him slide back of forth again. Anna spoke up.

"I think…"

She didn't finish. The door opened suddenly. Somebody was standing in it.

"Who's there?!", Ferdinand called.

"Yaotl!", the man said. "How are you?!"

"Fine!", Ferdinand told him. Something was wrong…

"You know Islander?!", Anna asked in surprise. Right.

Ferdinand heard a curse.

"Ah, well. Doesn't matter right now!"

"What?! Why?!", Ferdinand called, getting to his feet. The shape in the door had something in his hands and…

"Crossbow!", the prince called and ducked as the bolt shot at him. The Seeker jumped to her feet and put the man down. He called something in Southron and produced a blade. Before he could pierce Seeker, Ferdinand jumped to his hand and grabbed it, then dive sent him on the wall.

"Knock him out!", Anna called, standing up as well. A moment later Ferdinand heard a thump and Seeker stood up.

"I suggest leaving!", she called.

"Now it's a good idea!", Anna said and helped Ferdinand up. Clutching the knife, the prince followed them outside. Going after the white shape of Seeker, he ran forward, swinging from side to side as the ship was leaning. He fell forward when it dove again, but got to his feet in time.

"Anna?!", he called.

"Fine!", she answered behind him.

"Hush!", Seeker said.

They reached the ladder and Ferdinand pulled the knife into his pocket. Streams of rain were falling down it by the edges of the hatch above.

"It's closed!", the prince told the others.

"No, Yaotl got down somehow!", Anna noted and started to climb up. "The hatch's on swings!", she called from above.

"Right, now would you get down and carry me?!" Seeker asked. Anna walked down and the snow greyhound jump on her back, then the princess slowly climbed up. Ferdinand followed her, even slower as he had only one hand. Anna kept the hatch open for him and icy cold rain, mixed with salty wave water, kept on falling on him, hindering him even more. I'm so slow!, he thought with irritation. We don't have time for this!

Finally Seeker and Anna grabbed him and pulled him up. Ferdinand looked around, breathing in water and air of the storm. The deck was a familiar chaos, only bigger, as people were holding the lines, shouting, giving and passing orders, working the sails…

The captain, looking forward until now, turned to them.

"What are you-", he started and stopped suddenly, realizing he was speaking Islander.

"Right, right!", Anna said, helping Ferdinand get to his feet. "We're leaving!"

"What?!"

"We've found the flags!", Ferdinand called. He made sure the way is clear and then run like hell to the port side. In front of him, Seeker jumped down the bridge, followed closely by Anna. Ferdinand took the stairs and saw the Seeker jump beyond the ship like there was no sea. Anna stopped for a moment, as if frozen, and then jumped as well. Ferdinand prepared himself…

The ship's swing shot him forward and he flew over the railing and into the water.

He barely caught a breath before he hit the mad sea and plunged underwater. It was icily cold and the currents were pushing him in every direction, disorienting him in dark chaos. Hoping he's facing up, he kicked, swimming forward.

His head broke the surface and he looked around, noticing the white shape on the water. He barely managed to call before wave covered him and pushed him deeper. He swam to the surface again, but before he could reach it, something grabbed him and pulled him up. He landed on something.  
"Hold to the ice!", he heard over the crash of wind, and water, feeling cold under his cheek. He closed his eyes, pushing his body as close to the float as he could and noting that the ice seemed to be freezing around him, grabbing him and holding. The float was anything but calm - the sea tossed it around, up and down, to the sides, in every possible direction.

"How are you?!", he heard Anna next to him.

"Cool, you?!"

"Will do!"

"Great!", he heard Seeker behind him. "And now we're going north!"

* * *

_Schleichesberg, island of Schleich_

The wind was surprisingly calm in Schleich bay. The night had fallen a few hours back, and the dinner on _Eagle of Emblems _had ended an hour ago. Michael was secretly glad - as usual during their trip together, Alschwanzen had been 'entertaining' his noble guest with tales of sea travel that might've fooled one of Confederate landsmen, but definitely not someone born and raised in culture that favored sail above all else. Nevertheless, the prince had played interested, occasionally exchanging pained glances with _Eagle_'s captain, Verberk. Michael had managed to shape this particular man to his wishes and was sure Verberk would aid him when the time came. Apparently, the father of three was, like many, furious with Friedrich for what the king had done to his daughter.

Yes, Michael thought, as he walked down the pier on the evening stroll. That was well thought out.

He stopped when he saw a figure standing on the pier and looking towards the Navy's ships. There was something familiar about it. Michael quickly walked closer, narrowing his eyes. The figure turned to him and waved.

"Michael! It's so good to see you! I've heard you were in charge here?"

Oh, _great_. Out of all people, _him_.

"Ferdinand!" Michael smiled widely, stretching his arms and running closer. "You're alive!"

He grabbed his brother into tight hug, feeling that he could strangle him about now. Navy loved Ferdinand, 'their man', and his presence was bound to make people side with him. Well, I'll have to be careful, Michael told himself.

"Ugh! Michael, you'll break my ribs!", Ferdinand uttered, happiness radiating from his voice. The older brother let him go and moved back a step.

"What happened to you?", he asked, looking him over. Navy boy looked like someone had pulled him through a wringer, his face was hunger-struck, and he was shaking slightly as he moved. And… his hand. His hand was missing.

"What happened?", Michael asked again, this time honestly curious. "Who did this to you? Hans?"

"Cannonball.", Ferdinand answered, smiling tightly. "Long story. Mind getting to your ship? It's _Eagle of Emblems_, right?"

"Yeah. How do you know?"

"I've met some sailors in a bar. I bet they're looking for you right now."

Oh, great, it's getting better, Michael thought with annoyance. I can't even remove him before people meet him, because they already know he's here. Great! Just great!

"Alright. Then let's get to it and you'll tell me on the way."

Ferdinand nodded and they started to walk down the pier.

"They opened fire at us. The keep. The ship that took my hand shot me off board. I was…" He shook his head. "I don't think anybody else made it…"  
He stopped for a moment. Michael patted him on the arm.

"And then?", he asked.

"Well, long story short… Hans was holding me in his keep, I've decided to escape. I managed to open my cell and teamed up with bunch of sailors from sequestered pendulum ship. We sneaked out, took the ship back and escaped when the rains were falling. They wanted to get back home, so they dropped me here and left." He shrugged. "I've talked with people in the bars, they said you were here in the morning. Apparently I've arrived after you left. I've noticed the storm, so I figured you'd probably return here to weather it. Seems I was right."

"You were. And it's good to have you back.", Michael lied, leading Ferdinand aboard the _Eagle_.

Just as he feared, the crew was abnormally happy to see Ferdinand and soon Navy boy became the focus of attention as everybody wanted to know what had happened and how he had escaped Hans' clutches. Someone brought out a bottle of beer, people cheered, those from other ships too, and everyone seemed to want to have a chance to speak to Navy boy. Michael, pretending to be just as happy as everyone else, worked hard not to gnash his teeth. If Ferdinand found out about the rightful king's plans, he'd undo all prince's hard work without much effort.

Finally, Michael managed to take Ferdinand off the deck, helped by Navy boy saying he's absolutely exhausted. Michael got into his cabin. It had two beds, so the prince shoved his things off one.

"If you don't mind sharing a cabin with me.", he said.

"Sure not."

"I'll get you a doctor to see that stump.", he added. "But that's tomorrow. Have some sleep, Ferdinand, I still have some things to do."

"Sure. Goodnight, and…" Ferdinand smiled. "It's nice to see you again."

Michael forced a smile.

"Nice to see you too.", he said and left the cabin, looking for a place where he could vent his frustration.

* * *

"Is he gone?", Seeker asked under Anna's feet. "Because this is annoying as hell."

"Ah, be calm.", the princess whispered, looking down. For any outside observer, they were sure to be a pretty picture. Seeker made an ice float on the water, then stood on it on two feet, leaning on the ship's hull with her front paws. On her maw, Anna was balancing, grabbing the metal edge of a porthole a bit over her own head.

And so they were standing for the last few minutes.

"Are you sure this is the right window?", Seeker whispered in annoyance.

"Don't worry! I remember which one Ferdinand had shown us!"

"Nah, you don't.", she heard next to her. She turned and saw Ferdinand's head sticking out of another porthole. "It's the next one."

"Sorry!"

"I'm not moving from here!", Seeker declared.

"Fine, I can hear you.", Ferdinand said. "How are you?"

"Great.", Anna told him, balancing on Seeker's sleek nose. "Now, may I ask, why are we hiding from your brother?"

"I don't trust Michael."

Anna looked at him with shock.

"Seriously?", Seeker hissed.

"Do you trust _anybody_?", Anna asked.

"Some people, yeah. But he's acting strange."

Anna glared at him.

"Meaning…?"

"He hugged me."

Seeker snorted.

"Truly, a mark of suspicious activity."

"Look, he never did that before."

"Maybe that's because you've never been lost for so long before?", Anna said. "Besides, come on! It's your family. If not them, who can you trust?"

"_Anyone _but them!"

Anna was taken aback by this statement. She tried to imagine what would it be like if she couldn't trust Elsa. After all, even after years of separation, they were still family, right? And yet…

"Look, just please keep low, alright?", Ferdinand asked. "I have… I've heard that our family wasn't really happy about how your sister dealt with Hans. And we still don't know who kidnapped you."

Well, he was right at this point.

"You think it could be Michael?"

"I don't know. The only one I don't suspect is Friedrich. He's too straightforward for that."

"Alright." Anna nodded. "So I guess I'll lend a room in the city. Got any money?"

"I'll find some of Michael's."

He disappeared in the cabin. Anna waited, feeling her raised hands grow numb, and her legs starting to hurt. Finally, a hand holding a bag emerged from the porthole and thrown the bag. Anna caught it, but fell down. Seeker cursed and caught her before she could hit the water, and the two of them stood on the float. Ferdinand looked outside.

"You there?", he asked.

"Look down.", she told him. "I've got the money."

"Good. I'll let you know when we'll be leaving, maybe manage to sneak you aboard."

"Alright. Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight. Take care."

"You too."

They nodded to each other and Ferdinand's head disappeared. Anna looked down at Seeker, who answered with a glare.

"So how am I supposed to get into any inn?", the creature asked.

"I'll carry you on my back and throw the coat over you to pretend you're a backpack."

Seeker sighed.

"Fine… let's go."

* * *

"If that's all, your grace, goodnight."

"Yes, that's it. Thank you and goodnight to you too.", Michael answered the port clerk and left, curious.

He would never expect the Navy boy to lie. And yet Ferdinand's story didn't fit in. The port clerk, the man who kept track of all the ships coming and going in Schleichesberg, didn't have any pendulum ship in his records from the last few weeks. So then, how did Ferdinand arrive on the island?

I'm not the only one who's playing his own game here, Michael thought, and he didn't like it at all.


	39. Chapter 39: Internal affairs

_AN: Sorry for the schedule slip, as I've explained earlier, I was fixing the formatting of all chapters. Here's the new one - slightly shorter, for the purpose of Dramatic Tension (TM), but I hope it's good as well, and that I got the formatting right._

_""""_

_Weselton_

Eric sat in well-cushioned armchair in his father's study as prince Charles of Weselton paced around the room. The heir apparent was scowling at him from behind his glasses, and the ruler of the nation stopped from time to time to answer with deadly glare of his own. The silence between the two men was full of barely-hidden anger, and the hiss of candles that enlightened the room could be easily mistaken for cracks of tension.

Finally, Charles stopped at looked at Eric levelly.

"I have been told of… let me call this _unusual_ actions of yours.", he managed to utter through clenched teeth.

"I would rather use word 'reasonable', but serve yourself.", Eric answered, narrowing his eyes. Charles' hands closed into fists.

"Oh, really?", he asked, fury boiling just underneath. "Or perhaps I should use 'trecherous'?! What did you think you were doing?!"

"I don't see what's treacherous about what I did!", Eric told him, standing up. "The freedom of communication is the basic right of every diplomat, both by the law of Church and secular realms, and you were breaking it big time! What did _you _think you were doing?!"

"You will _not _talk to me like this!", Charles said, punching the table with his hand strong enough to make wood shake and creak. "Sit the hell down and explain yourself!"

Eric wanted to retort in the same fashion, but he knew there were borders he couldn't cross. He took a deep breath and fell back on the armchair, still glaring at father. Charles folded his arms and asked, slowly, still angry:

"So…?!"

"What I said! You were breaking international law by failing to allow Arendellan diplomats to communicate with their own nation, and you're artificially prolonging the peace negotiations and by this you're letting more of our men die!"

"And you were conspiring with and aiding the enemy in the time of war, for which, were you not my son and heir, I'd have you hanged!"

"I wasn't _conspiring _with anybody!"

"Really? So what were those nighttime meetings with the Arendellans Hunter told me about?!"

Eric nearly crushed the armrests upon hearing the surname.

"As if Hunter was the epitome of loyalty and honesty!", he snorted.

"For years he's been loyal servant to the Crown, and now you have some wild ravings about him!"

"He _lied _about Arendelle trying to attack us!"

"Where do you know that from? Arendellans, that's where! And you believe them?!"

"So Hunter is more trustworthy?!"

"He's my spymaster, for Almighty's sake!"

"He's the man who makes deals with crime kings and sleeps with my wife!"

"It's part of his goddamn… what did you say?"

Charles stopped mid-sentence, looking at Eric, who blinked, remembering what he just said in the heat of the moment. Oh. So I finally did say it out loud…

"What I said", he told his father slowly, "is that him and Margaret have a romance."

"Oh, really. And what proof do you have?"

"My own ears, perhaps?!"

"Something you heard?! That's it?"

Eric clenched the armrests stronger.

"You don't believe me! You believe a professional liar more than your own son!"

"I believe my loyal subject more than I do the man who has secret meetings with our enemies!", his father answered, then pointed at the door. "Out!"

"Father…"

"I said _OUT_!"

Eric clenched his teeth, stopping another remark coming from his mouth, and stood up stiffly, going to the door. He left without looking back and went to his room, gritting his teeth. Hell, why not? I might just as well go all the way with it…

* * *

Well, that's bad, Kristoff thought, hanging upside down behind the widow to king's - or prince's, or whatever's - study. He looked as Charles sat in the armchair his son was using a moment earlier. The king sighed with visible annoyance, then leaned forward and rubbed his temples. Suddenly, he seemed tired.

Don't get too full of warm feelings, Kristoff reminded himself sternly. Eric was right when he said Charles is letting many a man die because he has some wild ambitions.

Moreover, Kristoff added in his mind, slowly turning himself so that his head would face up instead of down, we don't know if he's not on Margaret's and Hunter's scheme. What they were planning to achieve, though, still escaped Kristoff's imagination. Would they actually believe that - in the unlikely event that Elsa would be killed - the army would just cower and go home, so that Weselton wouldn't have to tire itself too much when overtaking it? Would Charles - one of the nobles, after all - resort to regicide?

Kristoff's musings were interrupted when the door to the study opened and Charles' wife came in. Kristoff hung upside down again and listened as closely as he could through the thick glass.

"I've passed Eric on my way here.", duchess-consort, or princess, or whatever, said, leaning on the table. "What were the two of you talking about?"

"Ah, you know." Charles shrugged, looking away. "The usual stuff. He doesn't trust Hunter, he works with Arendellans, he accuses me of letting our men die…"

"Did you consider that something he said might be true?", Elisabeth asked. "He's our son, after all, and it's not usual for him to act like this."

Dear, why couldn't she be the ruler instead of Charles?, Kristoff asked himself in annoyance. We'd have this war wrapped up in matter of days…

"I don't know… maybe Arendellans told him something or…" Charles sighed.

"You know, he'd been suspicious of Hunter even before they arrived. No, that's not this."

Charles looked at his wife, although his face wasn't visible to Kristoff.

"You think there might be something?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe it's time we checked it."

"But… he doesn't even have any proof!"

"Does he actually need one? Almighty in heavens, Charles! You're his liege lord _and _his father! If he can't rely on your help, if he can't rely on you listening to him, what else can he do but try to solve it by himself?"

Why, why, why couldn't we enlist her help, Kristoff asked in annoyance. It seemed to him that both Arendellans and Eric had overlooked the best way to influence Charles' decision.

The lord of Weslton looked back on the floor.

"Solve the problem by cooperating with the enemy?"

"Perhaps he sees no other way."

"Then perhaps he should listen to me instead of committing treachery."

Elisabeth glared at him.

"I don't think we'd like our son to be your personal yes-man. They make for bad kings, or so I've been told."

Charles sighed again, this time with clear exasperation.

"Look, but what am I supposed to tell him?! Whatever I say about Hunter, Eric keeps on attacking him like some angry guard dog! You know what he presented as a proof tonight? He said that Hunter is sleeping with Margaret!"

Kristoff winced again as Charles threw his hands up. Perhaps I should've told Eric about it before he found out… Or maybe not…

Elisabeth, meanwhile, fell silent for a moment before saying:

"You know, perhaps that's the root of the problem. Perhaps Hunter really did seduce Margaret and they have an affair, and Eric found out about it. If so, little surprise that he's suspicious of him and keeps on accusing him of wildest things."

Kristoff sighed. That was _not _the conclusion he wanted them to reach.

"So what do you think we should do?", Charles asked.

"I can talk with Margaret. Well - not ask her about it to her face, but… you know, question her a bit."

"Yeah… Hell, why not…" He trailed off.

Elisabeth left and Kristoff slowly started to pull himself up the line, not expecting to hear much more.

* * *

Meanwhile, in their room, Kai was worrying.

Ever since this night when they discovered the assassination plans, everybody in the palace was looking at them suspiciously. Eric didn't manage to come, and Lee also restricted himself to appearing once and filling them in on the tense atmosphere in the castle. Most of the anger was directed at Arendellans. They hadn't been kicked out of Weselton or arrested yet, but the current situation seemed to be going in this exact direction.

Kai stopped pacing around the room, looking at the open window with line attached to it. If Kristoff's tonight's trip - the first one since that night - was discovered, they were _bound _to get arrested…

_Knock, knock, knock!_

He jumped and turned back to the door which audibly armoured hand had just hit. He didn't speak. Maybe they'll think we're asleep…

"Castle guard, open up!", he heard the voice behind the door. Oh, no way, he thought. If they'll see Kristoff's gone…

"By what law?!", he called, putting anger in his voice. After all, international rules were clear…

"By the law of prince's orders!", the voice answered. "Open up or we'll enter by force!"

"You wouldn't dare!", Kai called, looking around and quickly hiding whatever the guards might find suspicious. Another voice spoke.

"Baron Madsen, we're not here to arrest you!", it said, much more calmly. "I only want to talk!"

"Which is why the guards are here as well?!", Kai asked, his voice full of righteous noble anger, which he started to feel inside as well. What was Charles _thinking_, to act like this?! Was this supposed to be Weselton hospitality?! "And who are you to talk, anyway?!"

"Oh, sorry." The voice was definitely calm now. "The name's Glenn Hunter, I'm from the cavalry."

The spymaster?, Kai thought with shock. What would the spymaster talk about with him? Nothing Kai could think of seemed like good news.

Hunter spoke again:

"Baron, I'm sorry to insist, but unless you open the door right this moment, I'm entering by force!"

And he's ready to do this, Kai thought, looking around furiously. Kristoff should've been back in a moment… he didn't have a goddamn moment! The only thing Kai could think of was to mislead the guards as to where the mountaineer had gone.

"Baron?!", Hunter asked from behind the door.

"Yeah, moment!", Kai told him with annoyance, jumping to the window and shutting it close.

His heard froze as he heard the sound of the line being cut by the frame.

* * *

Kristoff cursed out loud when suddenly the line in his hands went limp and started to fall. For split second, he hung in the air, and then he followed it as well. He quickly pressed his fingers to the wall, trying to find something, but the castle was sliding under him…

He gasped as his fingers caught some window decoration and then almost let go when his arms were nearly ripped out of their shoulders. He quickly grabbed the decoration stronger, although it was falling from his fingers. Finally, he managed to catch something firmly… only for it to break under his weight.

He fell further with a faint scream and managed to catch the windowsill with enough strength that the potted plant on it fell down. It hit his head and Kristoff clenched his teeth as it bumped and fell further. He took a deep breath, feeling his fingers burn, and looked up. He cursed silently. He was still two floors below his own, and something must've happened if the line was cut. At least he hoped it wasn't some accident, or Kai was in for short and painful future.

Kristoff searched for a footholds and after a painful few moments, he managed to find them. He slowly pulled himself up and looked through the window. The room behind it was empty. Kristoff nodded to himself, then clenched his teeth and took one hand off the windowsill. He closed his eyes and punched the glass with all his force. With loud _crack_, it broke…

He lost his foothold and fell back down again, barely managing to catch the windowsill. He cursed under his breath, feeling the hand he used to break the window bleed. I'm going to spend some time with pincer after this, he thought, pulling himself back up and reaching to the window again. With injured hand, he broke the sharp edges of the glass tile, then reached inside and turned the lock open. He pulled the window and fell down again as it flew over his head, then raised himself up, feeling his arms start to tremble, and grabbed the inner windowsill.

He finally managed to pull himself inside and landed on the floor. After a few breaths, he looked around and stood up. He was in some small, not very rich room, the kind he might've lived in before he met Anna. Maybe some servant's place? Well, anyway, this didn't matter right now. Kristoff walked to the door…

…of course, it was key-only and locked.

* * *

Eric downed another glass of vodka, looking at the clock angrily. He started to feel a bit dizzy from the alcohol, but he didn't care much, and he thought about it less and less as the time went.

They don't trust me, he thought angrily, looking behind the window. My own family doesn't trust me, and my own wife cheats on me, and they're all ready to label me traitor because I'm the only one here with something approaching common sense! What the hell is wrong with them?!

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He didn't want to. Right now, he felt like walking out of the room, finding the bastard Hunter and punching the life out of him. Preferably with a hammer, and preferably starting from his feet and going up, to prolong the moment.

Behind him, the door opened. He turned and clenched his teeth, seeing Margaret entering, all cheerful and happy. She closed the door before noticing him, and then she stopped in surprise, seeing fury in his eyes.

"Eric? What happened?"

"How long?", he asked her slowly. She tilted her head.

"What?"

"I asked _how long_.", he repeated, his patience vanishing quickly. "For how long have you and this bastard Hunter been doing this?"

Margaret narrowed her eyes.

"What are you talking about?", she asked. Eric punched the table and stood up, furious.

"Don't play goddamn innocent! You're cheating on me with Hunter! I asked, how long has this been going on?!"

"You're delusional!", Margaret told him, clenching her teeth. "I'd never…"

"Really? So whom have I heard a few nights back getting down to it with Hunter, your sound-alike?! Whom have I seen sending some secret messages along with the official ones?! Don't… try… to hide it! You're having an affair, now I want to know for how long has it been going on!"

Margaret took a deep breath, opened her mouth… then exhaled slowly. A pleasant smile spread on her face, making Eric's blood run with shrieking fury.

"We've started a few weeks after he's been appointed a spymaster."

So that would mean… half of our marriage, Eric thought with increasing rage. Half the time we've been married, she was lying to me, cheating on me, this… this…

"Great! Just great!", he called. "And who else are you sleeping with? Maybe your dear friend Felix… _Gretchen_?!"

Margaret's façade of calm broke as she looked at him suspiciously.

"And who's that?!", she asked.

"Don't play innocent, I told you! The man you ate dinner with in Isenwerk, the man Hunter works with, the man you intend to control by money! Are you sleeping with him as well?!"

"How do you know about this?!"

Bad feelings started to catch up with Eric's drunken brain, but he dismissed them and kept on shouting.

"I heard you two talking, you know! I heard you eating dinner with him, and I heard you discuss your business with Hunter!"

"So just how much do you know?!"

"Everything! Everything you and your lovebirds were planning!"

Margaret clenched her teeth and Eric felt something even more alarming in the back of his head.

"Well, I don't think you know 'everything'", she told him, oddly serene, "but you sure know way too much for my liking."

Suddenly, there was a pistol in her hands, one of those relatively small, new-fangled weapons aristocracy in the south was buying. And it was pointed straight at his chest.

Common sense finally caught up with Eric's mind and he cursed in his head, sobering instantly. Right, I just told her that I know she has a lover and that I know she planned regicide… not the wisest thing I've ever done.

He looked back at Margaret, who was staring at him with annoyance.

"I should've been carrying a knife.", she said, half to him, half to herself. "Ah, well. I'll just have to take you somewhere where the shot won't be heard…"

He took a step aside, the aim of the pistol never leaving Eric. With a tilt of her head, she motioned him to the door.

"Move. And if you try to do anything, you're dead anyway."

What's the difference?, Eric thought, slowly walking towards the door. She'll kill me anyway… It's about time I started thinking.

* * *

Kai was led by three castle guards and Hunter somewhere through the corridors and downstairs. He glared at the spymaster walking next to him.

"Certainly, that looks like a simple conversation.", he said acidly.

"Oh, well. I never said I'm going to talk with you in your room, your grace.", Hunter replied smugly, fanning the flame of anger in Kai's heart. Madsen breathed deeply, taking it under control and at the same time imagining the man dying in some gruesome, yet karmic manner.

"This is how Charles treats his supposed guests?", he asked as they left the staircase and walked down some faintly lit corridor.

"Ah, don't worry about him. He doesn't know a thing."

"Very disloyal of you."

"Don't preach me, baron. Trust me, your father would do the same in my place."

"I rather doubt it."

They stopped by one of the doors and the lead guard pulled out the keys. Hunter chuckled.

"You're so full of idealistic naïveté, it's painful to watch." The door was open and the guards motioned Kai into the room. He considered fighting back, but everyone around him was armed, and he had only his fists. Even if he was only knocked out, it wouldn't do anything to help him, so he entered the room. Inside, there was only a table and two chairs. Kai felt alarmed. It didn't look inviting.

He was, however, pushed by the guard toward one of the chairs. As he sat down, Hunter kept on talking:

"You see, the men like me and him… we work in the zone of shadows, where there's no such things as 'good' or 'honor'. Sometimes we have to do much in the service of our rulers."

"Somehow, Hunter", Kai told him, hiding a pang of terror as a shackle closed on his wrist and the table, locking him here, "I think the only person you serve is yourself."

Hunter smiled faintly and motioned the guards out of the room. They left and Hunter locked the door, then slid the key to his pocket. He turned back to Kai and his polite smiled turned into something much worse.

"Perhaps.", he said. "But that doesn't help you much in your current situation, now does it?"


	40. Chapter 40: Mrs Margaret Hunter

_Weselton_

Kai looked levelly at the man across the table he was shackled to, trying to work out how far Hunter would be willing to go. Weselton spymaster had him arrested and locked in thick-walled room in the underground, with the guards outside clearly loyal to him. And he had kidnapped a diplomat of a foreign nation without his king's knowledge…

If his terrifying wolfish grin was any indication, Hunter would - and could - go very far.

"What do you want?", Kai snapped, hoping that he kept the edge of fear away from his voice. Hunter's grin widened.

"Why, I want information.", he said, sitting on a chair across the table. "You and prince Bjorgman have been… nosy recently. I want to know what you found out."

Kai put as much contempt as he could in his snort, deciding to play the part of haughty noble for all it was worth, even though inside, he worried about Kristoff. The last he saw of him was the window frame cutting the mountaineer's line… Don't think about it, he ordered himself and told Hunter:

"Over my dead body, you peasant upstart!"

"Ah, I see the aristocratic upbringing starts to come out, doesn't it?", Hunter said cheerfully, leaning back in his chair and folding his legs on the table. "But don't worry, _your grace_, your dead body can be arranged."

"You _wouldn't_."

"Wanna try me?"

Kai narrowed his eyes, thinking. He still had one of his hands free - much good it would do to him when he was chained with short shackles to heavy wooden table. Although I wonder if I could kick it over, he thought, keeping his eyes from going down and checking whether the table is nailed down to the floor.

"So, baron?", Hunter asked. Kai leaned back in his chair as well.

"I'm clearly not leaving this room alive in any case, so what makes you think I'd tell you a single thing?"

"Ah, well. You might be right in that regard, but you still have a choice."

Hunter stood up from the table and put his hands in his pockets. After a moment, he pulled out two leather gloves with something suspiciously similar to brass knuckles sewed on. He slowly, carefully put them on, taking his time and clearly enjoying the moment. Kai clenched his teeth. Back when he had been a lieutenant, he had gotten himself into a fight involving knucks. It hadn't been pretty. I have to think, he thought, focusing. He dared a glance down and cursed under his breath, noticing that indeed, the table was attached to the ground with metal planks. With the size of the nails that held it, Kai couldn't hope to rip them out, either. His free hand dove to his pocket, and he hid his joy when he felt the pen, the case to which was probably in Arendelle now, under his fingers. It was a measly weapon, sure, but it was also the only one he had.

"So, baron. Changed your mind?", Hunter asked, finishing fitting his gloves on and looking back at Kai. Madsen kept his hand with the pen under the table and thought of another thing. He smiled weakly.

"Well, this looks nasty…"

"Doesn't it? The only problem with it is that it's a bit hard to clean it of blood after I'm done, but well, that's what servants are for, after all."

"Certainly…", Kai said, swallowing theatrically. He took a breath and looked up at Hunter.

"Well, I guess it's… well, I'm sure keeping your secrets isn't worth getting to know those knuckles better…"

Hunter smiled in the way teacher might when a terrible student finally understood a basic thing.

"It's good to know there's some common sense amidst all this blue blood. Then…?"

Kai shrugged, letting his tension show.

"Well, it's stupid, really… We've been sneaking around the castle and we've noticed you making out with duchess Margaret… I mean, that's all." He smiled with stress. "It's not like anybody's going to believe u-"

Hunter moved like a lightning and Kai gasped as pain shot through his jaw and he felt cut skin and crunch of bone moving a bit too much. He blinked and Hunter was standing right in front of him, his face a mask of fury.

"Don't try to fool me.", he hissed. "I know you found out about much more. Why did you follow me to the _Red Boar_? What was in the message you sent home?!"

"Normal diplomatic report!", Kai said quickly, "Nothing unusual!"

With a crack and flash of pain, he got hit once again, strong enough that his head sprung back.

"Why did you follow me to the _Red Boar_?!"

"I don't know what you'r-"

Another punch and Kai felt his teeth loosen in his jaw. He clenched them, breathing and looking at Hunter. The spymaster leaned closer to him and whispered:

"I'm asking you questions. The longer you won't answer me, the more it will hurt, and believe me, those gloves aren't the only thing I have to hurt you with."

"The longer I won't answer you, the longer you won't kill me.", Kai answered with the same voice, his fingers clenched on the pen. The iron nib was sharp enough to cut leather with…

"Then you're in for a world of pain.", Hunter said and moved back, taking a swing to hit him once more. Kai watched, intent not to miss the moment.

Hunter stroke, but this time Kai threw his head to the side so that the punch missed. Quickly, before the man regained his balance, Kai's hand shot up and he pierced the glove with the pen. The man screamed in pain and shock as Kai drove the nib through his hand, then Madsen jumped to his feet and tried to punch the man. Hunter jumped back, though, and Kai couldn't follow him. The spymaster cursed, pulling the pen out of his hand and throwing it on the ground.

"Bastard.", he hissed, pressing his fingers to the bleeding palm.

"Officer in the Royal Army.", Kai replied, still standing and considering his next move. For all it was worth, Hunter could just call his guards to restrain him. Kai couldn't let this happen.

"What, Hunter? Standing back? What, you feel too weak to deal with one shackled man?"

He guessed correctly what would get to the man. Hunter glared at him, narrowing his eyes with fury glowing in them.

"You're overestimating your skills, you little merchie crap."

"The same could be said about you, Weasel.", Kai told him. "What, one lucky punch and you're too terrified of me to come close? _Pathetic_."

Hunter gritted his teeth. Good, Kai thought, good. Stop thinking, just attack me blindly…

"What makes you think you can talk to me like this?!", Hunter growled.

"Oh, and what will you do to me? You'll call your big bad guards to take me down because you're so scared of your prisoner that you have to hide behind them? I wonder what would your lover think, seeing that deep inside, you're nothing but a little whimpering coward…"

Finally, Hunter snapped. He jumped around the table and at Kai, who kicked his chair at him, throwing the man off balance. His left hand was shackled, so he kicked the man in the stomach as soon as he could, then, as Hunter bent in half, tried to kick him in the face. Too late - Hunter grabbed him by the leg, pulled and Kai landed on the ground, hanging on the shackled hand. He slid under the table and reached for the second chair with his hand, then pushed it straight into leaning Hunter's face. The man cursed and moved back, then thrown the chair aside and stood up. After a second, the shackled hand exploded in pain as knuckles hit it. Kai slid out, only to be stomped on by heavy boot. Breath out of his chest, he looked up at Hunter grinning madly, and pressed his nails into the trousers and leg above the boot. Hunter clenched his teeth and pushed stronger, Kai had trouble breathing. He managed to inhale, then turned sharply, throwing the leg off himself, grabbing the other and pulling it. Hunter landed on the ground and Kai stood up quickly, then tried to kick the man, but he rolled away. Hunter stood up and shook his head, clenching his armored hands into a fists. Feeling his shackled hand radiating waves of pain, Kai prepared himself.

"I'm going to kill you, noble trash.", Hunter growled in low voice.

"Good luck trying, spy boy.", Kai told him mockingly and Hunter charged again. This time, Kai stepped aside with a turn and, as Hunter passed him, slowing down, Madsen grabbed his head and hit the table with it. Hunter gasped and turned, then pushed Kai and landed on the floor with him. Kai almost screamed when his shackled arm was nearly removed from his shoulder and then couldn't breath as Hunter, his eyes dizzy from the hit, pressed his hands to his throat. Kai tried to rip the hands away from himself, starting to see dark spots in front of his eyes, but to no avail. He clenched his teeth, then drove his open hand in Hunter's throat like a dagger. The man gasped for air and let go. Kai shook off the fingers and hit the throat again, then grabbed Hunter by his hair and pulled, then drove the man's face in the table leg. He pulled and hit again, and heard an awful crack. Hunter's eyes rolled in the back of his head and the spymaster slumped unconsciously on Kai.

Madsen pushed the man off himself, then took a few seconds to catch a breath. He rubbed his throat, certain there were fingermarks on it, then checked his jaw. He hissed when it hurt under his fingers. When he looked at his hand, there was blood. I must look awful…

He let out a small chuckle when he realized what he's thinking about, then sobered up when he remembered where he is. He sat and finally the pain of his left arm eased, but hand still hurt. When he looked up, he noticed it was full of blood. Hunter must've really vented his frustration on it.

Kai looked back down at unconscious, or maybe dead - at the moment, he didn't really care - spymaster and reached into the man's pockets. He found the key to the room, but no key to his shackles. Of course. Basic precaution so that the prisoner couldn't escape… Kai clenched his fist on the room key and looked to the door. So, he could exit it… But there was still the matter of guards standing outside, and, of course, he was still shackled to the table which was, first, too big to fit through the door and, second, nailed to the ground.

Kai cursed under his breath and stood up on shaky legs, then sat on the table and started to think of what to do next. Unfortunately, his options were rather limited.

* * *

He wasn't the only one locked in a room.

Kristoff muttered a curse under his breath as the door to the room he was in failed to jump open when he kicked them yet again. Even if the castle staff didn't seem to care about furnishing servants' room, they certainly made sure that every single one of them could be used as impromptu prison. The only way out, it seemed, was the window, but Kristoff wasn't especially eager to try climbing on the castle wall without a line. His glass-cut hand, even wrapped in cloth found in the room, was definitely not up to the task of holding his weight with limited handholds the castle had to offer. Just to make matters worse, when he stuck his head out of the window, he was fairly sure he felt the beginning of rain on his face, and now he was sure he could hear the pat-pat-pat of raindrops hitting the glass and windowsill. In a moment, the stone would be too slippery for Kristoff to even dream of surviving the climb.

Which left him with either waiting for the owner of the room to come and let him out - which he'd much rather avoid, too many questions - or trying to break the door open, which would also raise eyebrows, but probably not put the blame on him.

He eyed the door and took a step back.

"You better start cooperating soon.", he told it and clenched his teeth, then kicked them once again.

Unbeknownst to Kristoff, his kicks were actually working. It was hard to see in the dark room, but the wood around the lock was started to crack and splinter, and it was only a matter of stronger push before it would break. As it happened, the kick was much, much stronger than push.

When Kristoff's boot hit the wood, the door sprang open and mountaineer lost balance, falling forward. He grabbed the door to stop himself from hitting the ground and hung over the floor. Seeing the stone in front of his face, he took a deep breath and then pulled himself up, thankful that catching the door not only stopped him from falling, but also stopped the door from hitting the wall with a bang that would surely wake up everybody on the floor.

Kristoff stood up and looked around. He was in some faintly lit corridor which he didn't recognize, although it was to be expected - he knew the castle mostly from the outside. There was nobody on the corridor, and if someone in one of the rooms heard Kristoff's kicks, it didn't make him or her curious enough to look outside. Good for me, the mountaineer thought, remembering in which direction the staircase should be. He walked there quickly.

On stairs, he started to go up, resolving to get to his and Kai's room and figure out what had happened to make the line fall. Had someone broke into their room and cut the line? Or perhaps Kristoff screwed up the knot and Kai didn't manage to catch it when it untied? He hoped that it wasn't the latter and that he hadn't lost the skills he had used all his life just because he had spent a few months among rich and noble…

His train of thoughts was rapidly stopped when he heard steps and voices from above. Quickly, but trying to step silently, he ran to the lower level and jumped in the empty corridor. Hiding behind the wall, he listened up. To his surprise, he heard Eric.

"I assume you won't at least explain to me why you're doing this?", the prince was asking sourly.

"I told you already.", he heard falsely sweet voice which, after a moment's thought, he recognized as duchess Margaret's. "You've found out too much for my liking."

Oh, bad, Kristoff thought with a wince. Eric must've accidentally revealed to his wife that he knows about her and Hunter's plans. But what was she doing? Kristoff hoped it wasn't what he thought it was.

"You should've carried knife instead of this toy.", Eric said mockingly.

"True", she answered cheerfully, "but this way, we can at least have one last conversation, now can't we?"

"Yeah, sure."

So she _was _doing what he thought she was doing. Kristoff waited until they passed him and then looked from behind the wall. The duchess, dressed elegantly, was leading Eric, still in the clothes he had worn when talking to his father, downstairs, with something pressed to his back. Kristoff decided to follow them - Kai was a soldier, after all. He could fetch for himself, and Eric was apparently being led to his death.

He almost started to walk after them when he heard a voice behind him.

"Prince Bjorgman? What are you doing here?"

It took him a second to recognize the title. Then he turned in surprise and saw a semi-familiar figure.

"Lady Elisabeth? Oh, haven't expected you here."

"Me neither.", Eric's mother told him, putting her hands on her hips and looking at him questioningly. "I was just going to my son, and what are you doing?"

"Well…" It would be probably better not to explain this, so… "Something happened to our toilet, so I decided to go search for another, but got lost…"

"Epically, I'd say. You're in completely different part of the palace."

Kristoff remembered when he had thought that princess/queen Elisabeth might be a good person to talk to, and said:

"Lady, but that's not important now. I've just seen your son being led down the stairs with something being pressed in his back."

She blinked, sudden worry appearing in her eyes.

"Who was leading him?"

She won't believe me, Kristoff thought, but decided to try nevertheless.

"Duchess Margaret. Uhm, lady? They were talking, and I think she's going to kill him…"

For a moment Elisabeth only stared at him, surprise mixing with distrust. Kristoff glanced back at the staircase. There was no time…

"Lady, I don't think we can wait…"

"Riiight. Lead the way, then.", she told him, motioning him to the staircase.

Kristoff breathed with relief, even though the lady was still dubious, and started to go down, listening to any sounds of two people walking. He heard and saw no one in the corridor he had left, so he walked downstairs.

"On the lower floor there's the Armory.", the princess, walking behind him, told him quietly. "If she is keeping him hostage, I bet it's with this 'pistol' toy of hers, and it's _loud_. Armory has swords and knives."

Kristoff nodded, going further down.

"Can Eric use them?"

After a moment of silence, Elisabeth said:

"I wouldn't bet his life on it."

* * *

Eric cursed when he realized where Margaret was leading him.

"The Armory?", he said. "Are you serious?"

"Why not?", she asked cheerfully. "After all, where better to go when I want to kill somebody?"

In his head, Eric cursed again, this time aiming it at all the people that were conspicuously _not _walking the corridors and couldn't hear his wife – if I survive this, he promised himself, she'll be _ex_-wife very quickly – bragging. He considered turning sharply and attempting to knock the pistol out of her hand, but he didn't doubt she was expecting this and any attempt would probably end with him dying with bleeding back or side wound.

Begrudgingly, he continued walking down the corridor. In its middle, three guards were standing watch, but could Eric call them for help? He glanced behind at Margaret. She certainly didn't seem concerned about them, so he decided not to try anything.

Man, he thought, if you continue to decide not to try anything, you'll be dead very soon, so you better try _something_.

They reached the guards and the bigger one casually saluted.

"Your grace, duchess.", he said to them. Eric nodded, hoping his stress shows, but then Margaret said:

"How are Hunter's things going?"

"Fine, I think, although it's been silent for some time there."

The guards were very pointedly not looking at Eric, who cursed again, this time out loud. So, the only guards he came across had to be Hunter's minions? Just great.

"Maybe he overestimated his guest's pain tolerance.", Margaret said, ignoring her husband's outburst. "Happens, I guess. I'm sure he'll resume soon."

This sounded ominous. Looking at the door the two men were watching, Eric wondered who might be behind them, but a jab from pistol's muzzle prompted him to walk on. The Armory was at the end of the corridor. Eric stopped in front of its large door and after a moment, a key was pushed into his hand.

"Open.", Margaret told him.

"You wish.", he murmured. The pistol was pushed stronger in his back. Alright, he thought, maybe I can find something inside...

"If you insist.", he said mockingly and reached with the key to the hole.

* * *

Kristoff and princess Elisabeth watched behind the corner as Margaret and the guards were talking. The mountaineer clenched his teeth. If Kai was in this room, this would explain why something went wrong enough for Kristoff to plummet to - almost- his death.

"I didn't know Margaret is working with Hunter.", the princess whispered.

"I did.", Kristoff told her. "And apparently, those guards are on their side, too."

"Well, we'll just have to bypass them.", she told him. "I'll go first, they shouldn't attack me."

Kristoff nodded and let her pass, then followed a step behind. He saw, at the end of the corridor, a huge door that closed silently as he walked. That must've been the armoury.

The princess walked to the guards and the first one blocked her way with apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, my lady, but I was instructed not to let her grace in here."

"Excuse me?", Elisabeth asked in annoyance, folding her arms. "By whom?"

"Colonel Hunter, your grace."

"You must be joking! Since when has the colonel been the lord of this castle? As far as I know, it's my house and I can go there wherever I damn well wish!"

Pity there's no place I could sneak by, Kristoff thought, she's diverting their attention beautifully.

"I'm… deeply sorry, my lady, but colonel is… working. I don't think her grace would like to… come close."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, sergeant, but I'm fairly confident the colonel is _not _working in the Armory, and this is where I'm going, so if you were so kind and let me pass?!"

The sergeant licked his lips in obvious stress and then noticed Kristoff. He took a step back in surprise and looked at the princess.

"My lady!"

"Is this any of your business who's keeping me company?!"

"Uhm, no, of course not…"

Another guard, watching the scene with increasing frustration, suddenly growled furiously and drawn his sword.

"What's the goddamn difference, just do it!"

"Wha-?", the man only had time to say when the guard rose his sword, intent on striking the princess.

Surprised, Kristoff barely had time to pull the princess back as the sword started to fall. Steel clanged as shocked, but still well-trained sergeant blocked it with his own blade.

"What's he-?", Elizabeth asked as the second guard, apparently still on his way to kill two witnesses to something, tried to attack her again and the first took it upon himself to defend her. The third backed off, surprised and baffled.

"No time!", Kristoff told Elizabeth, pushing her by the two fighters and running towards the huge door.

* * *

The Armory was dark and silent, with barely any light shining on orderly rows of pikes, swords and muskets. Their metallic gleam in the light from the door was unsettling, even more so when Eric realized that in a moment, one of those blades would be soaked in his blood. It didn't help when the door closed and all those sharp objects disappeared from his view.

Something was pressed in his hand again. Match and lighting stone.

"There's a torch on your left.", Margaret told him. Slowly, he walked and lit it. Golden light did little do diminish the eeriness of dozens upon dozens of weapons stored on stands and shelves of the huge, tall room.

"Now, let's think...", Margaret murmured to herself. "I'm sure there are some Arendellans swords here... Go."

She motioned him between the row of pikes and sword. Eric walked there, slowly, as she was looking the weapons over. He decided to play for time.

"So, who is Hunter torturing?", he asked casually, wondering whether the light had just danced on the blades oddly or was he just imagining things.

"One of your new friends.", she told him as if she was speaking about weather. "Shame the three of you were so nosy."

"I bet it serves your plans, though.", he told her acidly as they reached the end of one row and turned into another. Their footsteps had an odd echo, as if someone else was in with them.

"Of course! Just think, honey. Arendellan diplomats dead, Weselton prince murdered and I... dear my, I'll barely escape alive!"

"Oh, I see.", Eric growled, all the little puzzles of his wife's plan suddenly popping into place. "You'll say that Arendellans attacked the two of us and managed to slay me... but then _brave _colonel Hunter jumped in and saved you, slaying the two merchie murderers! Of course, then you, as widow of mine, will be the sole heir to Weselton. You and your Hunter will stage 'falling in love with your rescuer' act and so the two of you will wind up in charge of the country."

He looked over his arm and scowled at Margaret. She smiled pleasantly.

"You see, you can be pretty intelligent when you want to.", she told him. "It's good you didn't display this level of reasoning when confronting me up there."

He snorted, looking back forward.

"You'll fail."

"What makes you think so? You think that after merchies kill you and almost murder me, your father will be capable of thinking calmly enough to guess what truly happened?"

Eric clenched his teeth. She was right. Father was irrational right now… although… perhaps if his son died from the hand of his supposed 'allies', father would finally understand that not all was as it seemed? Eric didn't let his hope show, though, instead electing to continue picking Margaret's and Hunter's plan apart.

"Arendellans might not be as bloodthirsty."

"They'll have to defend their country."

"At some point their queen will perform Great Freeze: Round Two and your plan won't be worth the paper to write it on." He remembered one more thing. "That's why you hired someone to kill her, didn't you? With the queen and me dead, both countries will be at each other's throats and Arendelle will be in disarray."

"…allowing us to take it over!", Margaret finished. "And just to make things better, do you know who's in line to the throne after sadly-missing princess Anna?"

"Rapunzel and… me, huh?"

They walked to the end of the row and glanced in another one, but there were only muskets, so they went further. Eric would swear that he heard a clank as if one of the swords moved, but perhaps it was just his imagination. He walked into another row and Margaret spoke again:

"And as I said before, as your wife, I'll inherit everything after your death… including the titles. We might not even need to take Arendelle by force."

"You're overdoing this, you know.", he told her. "Either anger Arendelle enough to continue the war, or look so friendly that when you murder their queen, no one will have anything against you on their throne. But not both."

"Why not do both? If one fails, I still have the other."

"And Coronian throne, isn't that true?", Eric asked grimly.

"Indeed! Ain't this an amazing plan?"

Eric snorted.

"Oh, my apologies for not appreciating its beauty."

"Don't worry. It doesn't matter anymore. Stop."

Eric froze in place, his fury with Margaret and Hunter replaced immediately with terror.

"Why would I?", he asked.

"I found the right sword! Now, make a step forward… _Now…_"

"No.", why?, he added in his head, surrounded by weapons and yet incapable of using any of them. He'd be shot before he could reach for any, not to mention that it's been ages since he had last trained any swordfight.

"Oh, please. I want it to be a pretty forward cut. This way at least it will look as if you tried to fight them instead of running away like a coward."

Eric told Margaret rather verbally where she can stick her plans and she laughed.

"Is this really what your last words will be?"

Before Eric could speak, another word said behind both of them.

"Not if I have any say in this matter."


	41. Chapter 41: End problems, enter problems

_Weselton_

"Not if I have any say in this matter."

The words rang in the vast Armory like a fired shot. Eric froze in surprise, which then turned to something between terror and joy as he realized who's talking.

"Uhm, hi, mum.", he said, very aware of the muzzle of Margaret's pistol pressed to his spine and his wife's gritted teeth. He took a deep, careful breath, but Margaret spoke first.

"Lady Elisabeth, good evening, but what are you talking about? You must've misheard something…"

"_Suuure_. Now, Margaret, step away from my son and put this pistol down."

Eric felt her tense.

"Or…?"

"Trust me, this won't end well for you. We're in Armory, after all. Plenty of sharp and deadly things here."

"That's true for both of us."

Before he could react, Eric was turned around as Margaret hid behind him, and felt a cold, thin steel on his throat. He briefly considered hitting Margaret in the gut with his elbow, but then the pistol was pressed in his side. Well, he thought sourly, I'm one good hostage. Too slow to do anything.

He looked forward. His mother was standing there, with drawn sword held in a way that made it painfully obvious she had no idea how to use it. Next to her, to Eric's surprise, Kristoff was holding another sword, and he was apparently as proficient with it as she.

"Oh, cooperating with the enemy?", Margaret asked.

"Oh, trying to murder my child. I told you to step aside."

"Why would I? You can't do anything to me."

Kristoff rose his eyebrow and tried to move behind the row of weapons, as if trying to sneak at her from behind.

"No, no, no! You're not doing this, or else this pretty prince here will not see the daylight again."

She sounded almost cheerful, but her actions betrayed her. She kept on pressing both the sword and the pistol stronger and stronger, apparently without realizing it, and Eric already felt blood on his neck. If it went on for too long, she'd cut his head off.

"Come on, Margaret.", he told her. "You lost, that's it. You won't manage to murder all three of us."

"I only have to get you and Elisabeth.", she whispered to his ear. "Who'd believe Bjorgman?"

"Good luck trying.", Eric's mother spoke, the fury barely hidden under her cold voice.

"Oh, don't worry. I can always call the guards."

Kristoff smirked.

"The ones who were busy fighting among themselves when we left them? I don't think so."

Eric smiled, but somehow he couldn't really be happy about the turncoats not being a problem anymore. He tried to swallow, but found it hard with the sword pressed to his throat. He decided to try reasoning again.

"You _lost_. What do you want?"

"Oh, why, a passage to the port and money for a ship."

"And where would you go?", mother asked.

"Home, of course." The blade was pressed a bit stronger. She's all tense, Eric thought. Her finger must be pressing on the trigger… He had to talk some sense into her before she killed him.

"You think Friedrich would welcome you with open arms? He wasn't so forgiving with Hans."

"Who says I'd stop there?"

The Southernmost Lands. She'd escape there and after a few days, she'd be missing forever. Eric cursed in his head. He didn't dare speak anymore, it felt as if a deeper breath would cut his throat.

"So…", Margaret asked, and he could imagine a malicious grin. "Care to negotiate?"

* * *

In the interrogation room, Kai listened carefully to the commotion. The door wasn't soundproof, thank the Almighty, but he couldn't make out what was being spoken outside. There was some conversation, then another one which ended with what seemed to be shouts and sounds of skirmish. Now, though, there were no more sounds, and Kai wondered what it meant. He hoped rescue.

After a few more seconds, his dreams came true as he heard the sound of key being pushed in the lock. Still, safety first. He ducked under the table he was still shackled to and shoved the very-possibly-dead-didn't-care-to-check body of Glenn Hunter out of sight of any intruder. A second later the door opened and someone came inside - military or a guard, judging by heavy boots that Kai could see from under the table. They stopped and unsure, but definitely Weseltonian voice asked:

"Sir? We had a small problem… sir, where are you?"

The boots came closer to the table. Kai, seeing his chance, prepared himself. When they were in his reach, he quickly grabbed the man's legs with his own. He caught the table's edge, pulled himself back and the man was pulled too, yelping in surprise and losing balance. He fell to the ground and looked at Kai with shock, then tried to reach for his sword - blooded sword. Kai didn't let him, turning himself, reaching forward, grabbing the man by his hand, pressing his nails in his wrist. The man hissed in pain and tried to kick Kai, who rolled away, hanging on his shackled hand. Madsen turned around again and kicked the man from above in his stomach, to which the guard reacted with gasp and near scream. Kai repeated the kick, then reached further, grabbed the man by the neck and pulled closer, then crouched back on his feet and punched the man in the throat. The guard started to suffocate and he reached to the Kai, grabbing him by the throat, clutching it. Kai clenched his teeth and caught the man's head, then tried to hit the table with it, but he didn't have enough strength. The man's knee landed in his stomach and Kai gasped, letting go of the neck and pressing his fingers in man's wrist. Blood appeared when his nails pierced the skin, the guard winced. Seeing black spots dancing in front of his eyes, Kai gathered his strength and managed to bring his legs to bear, then kicked the man in the stomach with his feet, then again and again, feeling his head pressed in the table. Finally, the man couldn't stand it and let go. Kai fell with a gasp, hanging from the shackle, and for a moment everything was hazy. He saw, a bit fuzzy, the man reaching for his sword, ready to end the prisoner, and Kai noticed the knife on his belt as well. He reached for it, pulled it out, the guard was clumsily trying to bring the sword to strike in a small space, Kai had it easier, he took a short swing and stroke at guard's neck.

Hot blood erupted and sprayed Kai's face and the sword hit the ground with a clank. The guard's body jerked and his eyes went blank. Kai breathed and then coughed when the smell of blood got to him. It seemed to be everywhere, all over the body, on Kai's face, on his neck, in his mouth, in his eyes… He moved back and tried to wipe it off, but if anything, his sleeves were even worse, completely soaked. Kai moved further back, tried to stand up, banged on the table, moved further back, stood up, stumbled upon Hunter's body, fell back, hung on the shackle, and pulled himself forward, then shook his head and had to grab the table before the world stopped spinning. For a few moments, he alternated between spitting blood and breathing deeply, trying to get the stench out of his mouth and lungs. When he blinked, his eyelids almost glued to each other from the blood. He tried to clean them again and again, only smeared them a bit more. He was supposed to do something…

Right. He ducked to Hunter's body and found the keys, cheerful. Now he could leave the room… No. He stood back up and looked at the open door, trying to work out what was wrong. The other guards seemed to be missing… No, that wasn't it. The doors were open. He didn't need the key. So, he was free to leave… He started to walk and he was pulled back. Right, right. The shackle. He had to unlock the shackle first… Who had the key? Didn't guard have it? Wait a moment…

He leaned on the table and breathed again. He must've hit his head worse than he had thought, or perhaps it was the effect of being strangled twice… Anyway, what was he…? Right, keys… He ducked under the table and started to search the guards.

A few moments later, rubbing his hurting wrist, he stumbled out of the room and almost fell on someone's body. He looked down and realized this was the leader of the guards who led him there. There was blood on the guard Kai killed, right? Why did they kill each other? Why was the guard…

Never mind. He looked back up and looked to the side. There was some large, door, slightly ajar, to one side and the stairs to another. He wanted to go to the stairs, remembering dimly that there was someone he should find, but then he heard voices coming from the door and decided to check if he could get any help.

* * *

"I've already said what I want.", Margaret repeated yet again, her voice rapidly losing its amused serenity. Kristoff eyed her. In the semi-dark of the Armory, it was hard to say what her expression was, but she sure was losing her patience.

"And I've already said you're not in a position to negotiate.", Elisabeth answered her.

"Really? I think I'm the one in who's hands your son's life is!" This was probably meant to sound mocking, but came across scarily close to hysterical. Bad.

"If you'll keep on… pressing… on my throat…", Eric croaked, "You'll have… no… hostage…"

Margaret clearly blinked, then her sword moved a bit and Eric took an audible breath. Kristoff looked at the duchess' face over the prince's arm again, trying to work out _something_. Pity he'd taken a sword instead of a crossbow. Or maybe not, he'd never used a crossbow. Still, something had to be done. He started to speak slowly, as if trying to calm a terrified horse.

"Look… I understand, you want to be out of here… But did you consider what then? Weselton has its navy. They'll get to you in no time, provided you'll even leave the bay…"

"They won't.", Margaret told him, a bit of her self-confidence returning, which wasn't exactly the desired effect.

"Why wouldn't they? Even if you're aristocracy, they are too. They won't care."

"They will care about their son and heir.", she told them smugly. "He's traveling with me."

Eric's eyes narrowed with silent fury, and Elisabeth started to talk acidly, but Kristoff tried to keep it calm. No point making her feel that she's dead already…

"And where would you leave him?", he asked. "On the Isles? Southernmost Lands? You don't seem to have other stops. And if you'll just kill him when you're done, that's not much of a motivation not to kill _you_."

Margaret opened her mouth, as if trying to answer, then closed it. Clearly, she didn't think this part through. Good, Kristoff thought. Now, what can I say next?

He suddenly realized he can hear quiet footsteps in the Armory. Somebody was in there with them. Only if Margaret realized this, she'd probably go back into killing mode… Kristoff had to keep on speaking, drown the steps with his voice…

"Look, let me tell you - it's not necessary. If you step back now, nobody'll kill you or anything. You just have to cooperate and you'll be treated with all the respect. Oh, of course, you'd be arrested, but then, you'll be in the aristocratic cell. Hardly different from your regular rooms. Cozy, comfy and well-equipped. And who knows, maybe once you'll get home you'll have another chance?"

"Hell no!", Elisabeth declared and Margaret's gaze, until then transfixed on him, shifted to her. Kristoff cursed in his head, but then noticed a figure, more like a silhouette in the shadows, in the entrance to the row, a few meters behind Eric's and Margaret's back. Just a few more moments…

"Maybe yes.", he said, a bit louder, glancing at Elisabeth pleadingly. Just a few more moments, please! "We don't know. Maybe with time, Friedrich will offer you some… parole of some sort. I mean, it's not like you'll spend the rest of your life there, you're like what, thirty?"

"Thirty five.", she said smugly, smiling as if it really mattered right now that she looked younger than she was. Nevertheless, Kristoff smiled, looking at the silhouette with the corner of his eye. It was familiar and he could only hope it was who he thought it was…

"You see? And you'll live to be what, ninety? That's still over half a century for you, I bet the king of the Isles will change by then. You sure won't spend fifty years in one room, they'll let you out, you can start all over…", he ran out of words. Eric picked up.

"Come on, Margaret. You know he's right. Just surrender and all'll be fine."

The duchess paused for a moment, as if considering. The figure was standing two steps or so behind her, tilting slightly on its legs as if it had trouble keeping straight. Kristoff tried not to look at it, not to alert Margaret.

After a few seconds, it finally worked. Margaret's sword left Eric's throat and the thing she was pressing in his side moved away. She pushed Eric with this hand towards Elisabeth and Kristoff and the prince stumbled there. Before he got even halfway through, though, she raised her… 'pistol' again, with determination in her eyes.

"Not so quick!", she told him and looked at Kristoff. "Did you think I'd buy this? Of course it won't end so well for me!"

Kristoff's mind blanked as he tried to think of something, but he wouldn't have time for anything… She looked down at Eric.

"Bye, honey…"

And suddenly she gasped and fell, somebody on her back. The pistol and sword fell out of her hands as she hit the ground, and the mysterious figure pushed her to the ground, practically sitting on his knees on her. Eric turned in clear surprise and Kristoff jumped closer.

"Kai?", he called and the silhouette rose its head and nodded. Kristoff gasped. "Oh, shit, what happened to your face?!"

Kai blinked a few times, his gaze worryingly unfocused, and touched his head with his hand. Under him, Margaret cursed and tried to shake him off. Eric picked up her pistol and pressed it to her head, which silenced her rather well. Kai looked at his hand and then back at Kai.

"Uh, my head? It's not mine… I mean the blood, the blood's not mine…"

Kristoff sighed with partial relief, although he still couldn't fathom why Kai looked like a bucket of blood was dropped on him. Meanwhile, Madsen got off Margaret's back, tried to stand up, and nearly fell head-first into the row of swords. Kristoff grabbed him and helped him to his feet, glancing at Margaret.

"You know", he told her, "I think if you surrendered, everything I said would actually be true. Now, though…"

"Don't count on a comfortable cell.", Elisabeth finished coldly.

"Pity we don't have a pair of shackles.", Eric added.

"I know when you can find one!", Kai volunteered and went limp in Kristoff's hands.

* * *

The next hour or so were absolutely hectic as mother went for help, father arrived and looked at the scene around him in terror, the Armory was swarmed by people, Kai was taken by the doctors, Margaret was escorted to prison, everybody was asking questions, someone was examining Eric, Kristoff and Elisabeth were talking, and they were asking him questions, too. Eric was led out of the place, almost stumbled on the dead guards, glanced inside the room, saw Hunter's body being examined - somebody said skull fracture, somebody else was talking about fatal concussion - and then he was led to his rooms, one servant offered him a drink, and everybody was talking, and suddenly exhaustion rushed over him and he finally managed to get himself free of this whole talking crowd and get to some room with a sofa when he just fell on it and slept.

He woke up a few hours later, feeling mangled and only slightly fresher. Early sun was shining through small window, and when he opened it, cool wind blew inside, awakening him fully. Behind the door to the small room - apparently, the entry to doctor's office - he found a servant who brought him a bowl of water and something to eat. Eric had managed to wash his face when father arrived.

Prince Charles stopped in the door and sent the servant away with a gesture. He and Eric looked at each other for a moment before father said:

"You have a moment?"

"Yeah, nothing on my mind now.", Eric answered, not sure what to make of father's odd, almost humble voice and worried eyes. Father nodded.

"Good. Oh, you might want to know that your Arendellans are fine. Baron Madsen has woken up a few minutes after you."

Eric breathed silently in relief. He worried it was something serious with Kai, but apparently nothing a few hours' sleep couldn't solve.

"They're not 'my' Arendellans.", he said, though. Father sighed.

"True, but that's not why I'm here."

"So…?"

Father sighed again and looked straight in Eric's eyes.

"Look, I'm… I'm sorry. I know that… you know, ever since this war started, I've been…" He rubbed his forehead and spoke again. "Well, let's get this straight. I was warmongering, trying to squeeze as much profit as I could out of the situation we've gotten ourselves into, and you might not consider it moral, but well… You'll see that being a king isn't a bed of roses. But this doesn't change the fact that I brushed off your concerns, treated them as unworthy my attention, and came very close to… no, scratch that, I _did _accuse you of treachery when all you were trying to do was to save this country in your own way. And…" He shook his head. "That was wrong. I shouldn't've done this, I shouldn't've put you in situation where you trust foreigners more than you trust me, and most of all, I should've listened to you. And… I'm sorry, Eric. I am sorry, and please…" His voice trailed off.

Eric took a breath, then let it out, not sure what to say. It had taken him almost dying for father to finally see what he'd been doing, but… Well… Eric smiled a bit, rather artificially.

"It's alright. I mean… yes, it's alright."

For a moment, awkward silence fell between the two of them. Finally it became unbearable and Eric decided to tackle another subject.

"Now that you see this… The war. You're not going to continue it, right? You'd be playing straight into Drachner's hands…"

"He doesn't have his paws here anymore.", father noted, "But no. Even if I wanted to, it's not really an option anymore."

Something about father's voice alerted Eric.

"What happened?"

Father shook his head.

"There are Arendellans ships closing on the bay right now. A lot of them. The leading one is flying the peace flag, but there's not one courier among them. Only men-of-war."

Eric swallowed. The meaning of this was clear.

Arendelle lost patience.

He could only hope Kristoff and Kai could talk down whoever was leading the expedition.

* * *

Kai narrowed his eyes, breathing deeply the cool, midmorning air as he watch the lead ship slowly moor to the pier. Next to the courier vessels in the royal port, it looked absolutely magnificent, although a glance at Eric indicated that while the prince was worried, he wasn't very awed. Presumably, he saw bigger ships in the Isles.

Kai's glance returned to the ship. His head was still spinning a bit, but he insisted on getting out of the bed and greeting his kinsmen. Moreover, everybody standing on the pier now had agreed that perhaps it would be better not to mention the night's adventures, and if Kristoff really was as bad an actor as soldiers had told him what seemed like ages ago, he needed all help he could get.

Well, I'd been told the same thing, Kai thought, searching the ship's hull for its name. Well, let's hope two awful liars will give one moderate…

"_Insignia_", he whispered.

"What?" Kristoff, standing on the other side of him than Eric, asked.

"_Insignia_. It's father's ship."

"Oh, great. I mean, nice to have him, but I sort of doubt we can pull this lie off, especially with you still dizzy."

"I think this won't be the biggest of his concerns at the moment.", Eric noted, his voice only slightly tense with nerves. Next to him, prince Charles glanced at the three of them sourly.

A moment later, a gangplank was levered and a man in a full military uniform, even if unbuttoned jacket, walked off the ship. Kai grinned, seeing his father, but sobered up noticing the sword by his belt. It was definitely not the ceremonial one.

Baron Madsen was definitely all business. He barely glanced at Kai, his face grim, and walked straight to the prince. He stopped a step or so in front of Charles and the lord of Weselton nodded shortly. Baron answered with the same. The two men eyed each other coldly.

"Your majesty."

"Baron Madsen, I presume.", the prince answered equally icily.

"Currently _general_ Madsen, but yes."

"General? Should I consider this an invasion of Weselton city?" The prince didn't even glance at all other warships still standing in the bay. He had ordered the coastal batteries to hold their fire expecting that, as the customs of war taught, only the vessel with blue-crossed-with-white peace flag would enter, its escort staying far from Weselton's home waters. Father, however, decided differently and before the guns could load and aim, he was already in the bay. This wasn't _exactly _the breach of laws of war, but it was definitely a bad precedent.

The baron onlu narrowed his eyes.

"This will get to be decided in the next few minutes. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

Without waiting for the answer, he turned to Kai and looked him over. Younger Madsen smiled, or rather grinned. Father raised his eyebrow without much belief in the expression.

"How are you?"

"Well, fine, I guess.", Kai shrugged, cursing his inability to wipe this idiotic grin off his own face. Terrible liar…

"You look rather… mangled."

"I was up all night."

"Ah… And why the gloves and high collar?"

They were actually hiding his nearly crushed, still bleeding left hand, and his bruised throat on which fingermarks were still visible. But they weren't Kai's usual fashion choice.

"Uhm, it's cold."

"Yeah… right." Father send him his classical 'we'll-talk-later' look and turned his gaze to Kristoff. "And you?"

Kristoff's smile came across as more natural. Slightly.

"Fine. You see, we've actually made kind of a breakthrough last night."

"Oh, is that so? Sorry to disappoint you, but that was a bit too late."

He turned back to the king.

"I am not here to ask for peace. I'm here to demand it, and if I won't get it, I shall demand surrender. _Unconditional _surrender."

Charles' eyes narrowed and it seemed that he'd explode in a second. After a few moments, though, he took himself under control and, through clenched teeth, managed to say:

"Let's talk inside."

* * *

"…not that bad a plan, but some parts are entirely unacceptable.", baron Madsen said, looking at the map Kai, Kristoff and Eric had managed to create during their night meetings. The crown prince was looking at the Arendellan general in worry. It was hard to see family resemblance between him and young major, and general's stern, self-confident manner was a far cry from mild unsureness that Kai was radiating. Clearly, this man would not accept something he didn't like.

Eric's father wouldn't either, which didn't bide well for the future.

"Why not?", father asked, clearly barely keeping his temper under control. "It's a working solution, and should stop further conflicts."

"Perhaps, but let me tell you about the current situation." The baron rose his head with a cold smile and pointed at the High Table valley, which Kai, Kristoff and Eric assigned to Weselton. The general, apparently, had other plan. "We are here. We. Arendellan forces. We won this valley by fight, blood and lives of our man, and we will _not _move off it. Whatever the situation with the High Table was before the war, now it's clearly, irrevocably ours. And it will _stay _ours, along with the Stone Streams and Tampani trail."

Father clenched his teeth, clearly furious with Madsen's words and the way in which he'd said them.

"And we're supposed to leave the Rollinson Gate open wide for you?"

"_You _don't get much to say in this matter. You've started this war, and we've won its biggest campaign so far. We shall keep what we conquered."

"Oh, really? Do you intend to take anything else for yourself. Maybe some major city? Or a port, if you want to?" Hearing father's voice dripping with acid, Eric sighed with exasperation. If father's temper got better of him again… No.

"No, I think we'd much appreciate if we kept what's indisputably our territory.", he said with soothing voice. Madsen's eyes turned to him and Eric felt uncomfortably as if the man was staring right inside his head, reading what was in it. The prince put on a courteous mask and Madsen nodded.

"Indeed, the queen put it clearly that we're not to enter the undisputed territory." He turned back to father, who seemed to have calmed down a bit and was now glaring at the unfazed general. "There's also, of course, the matter of reparations."

Oh, great.

Before father could explode, though, a knocking could be heard on the office door and a servant poked his head in.

"Your majesty, I am deeply sorry to interrupt you, but we've just got a message from Rollinson Gate."

Everybody looked at the man, who cowed a bit from the sudden attention. Father, standing closest to the door, extended his hand. The servant passed the message and quickly escaped the room, while father read.

"Well", he said. "The situation on the High Table might still change."

"How come?", Eric asked, suddenly anxious.

"General Carter sends his regards. He's currently on the High Table and moving against the Arendellans." Father walked to the map and looked at it, then back at the letter. After a moment, he said:

"Not much we can do to stop the battle, though. If my calculations are correct, it'll start in a matter of a few hours.

""""

_AN: And finally, I managed to write this chapter... I have to say, I have no excuse for there being nothing on Friday/Saturday/Sunday. It's just that yesterday evening I was sitting by the computer and suddenly remembered that there was something I should do... oh. So sorry for a slip-up, and there you are. Thankfully, I have two days off after today, so maybe I'll even post the next chapter tomorrow evening.  
__Don't hold your breath, though._


	42. Chapter 42: Classic race against time

_AN: I'm sorry. I know I've said the new chapter would be here on Thursday and it ended up as a full week's gap... I guess I should stop telling you when the next chapter will be posted._

_On the other hand, I promise there will be one more this week. We're near the end, actually, I should wrap up the whole story by chapter 50._

_Aaaanyway..._

_""""_

_High Table_

The sun was already quite high over the mountaintops as four corps, merged for now into one army, were moving due west, crushing thin layer of ice beneath their boots, hooves and wheels into dust. The infantry alone, with pikes and muskets, was a magnificent sight to behold, stretching across the vast plateau, and it was flanked by cavalry and followed by artillery. The passage was slow, but Arendellan generals were sure it would be today that they'd meet the Weseltonians.

Riding in the front of their forces, generals Kristiani, Olafsen and Simani were peering at the map Berg was holding in front of himself. It wasn't all that easy, given they were all on horseback, but then it was the High Table. Not much to stare at, anyway.

"Well, you can see what it looks like.", Bjorn said, looking up at his fellow commanders. Olafsen was thoughtful, Kristiani seemed to be impatient for battle, and the annoyed scowl of Simani hadn't left the man's face ever since the First Corps joined the others. Ebbe still seemed annoyed that he couldn't make it in time for the campaign against Windsor and Potter.

"Like a huge plain of nothing.", he said. "Like a perfect field for regular infantry battle."

Berg nodded. Both him and Simani preferred cavalry to infantry, but that much was true - this looked like tactic instructor's dream come true. Huge flat space for pike squares, musket firing lines, grand maneuvers and classic, by-the-book infantry battle. And, as Berg had already seen during earlier years' training, it would take hours just to move everything into position.

Well, technically, Weasels will need just as much time as we do, he reminded himself. The scouts had already reported contact with forces of enemy general, Carter. They didn't fire yet, but he was out of the Rollinson Gate in force and his soldiers had fanned out to cover as much area as possible. The Arendellans had sent their cavalry to try and pick some of the more isolated units one by one before they would amass again, but it would take time.

_Everything _would take time. Berg sighed. He kind of missed the guerrilla war he'd been fighting before this.

"Any other thoughts?", he asked, glancing around. Jens Olafsen shrugged.

"Until we know where Carter decides to amass, not much we can do. He certainly can't stay dispersed like this - we'll just annihilate him with cavalry if he tries to. He'll have to meet us somewhere."

Kristiani stroke his beard.

"How about we herd them to the place we want them?"

"Which would be where, actually?", Berg asked. "It's the High Table. The huge plateau of sameness. Wherever he'll stop, it's all the same for us."

"True. So… we wait for him?"

"Apparently."

Rasmus sighed, but said nothing.

* * *

_Weselton_

"There's got to be _something_ we can do!", Eric stated, pacing around the room anxiously.

He couldn't believe it. They were so close to ending this war - they were practically on the edge of signing a peace treaty, even if it was the peace treaty forced by Arendellan general - and yet there was a battle about to be fought, and thousands of people were about to die, just because they were a day too late? He cursed under his breath.

"What do you imagine it could be?", his father asked, with obvious annoyance, glancing away from the table on which he and general Madsen were discussing - in not very friendly way - politics and eventual treaty. The baron poured himself wine and looked at Eric questioningly as well. Under the far wall of the chamber, Kai and Kristoff were leaning, conferring with each other in hushed voices. Eric took a breath.

"I… don't know. I mean, we could… alert them somehow, tell them that the treaty is almost done…"

"And what would they do?", father asked. "First of all, we still haven't decided what about the High Table…"

"We have.", elder Madsen growled, pointing at the map where clear line - the new border - was drawn, clearly showing the High Table on Arendellan side. Father wasn't pleased about this in the slightest, and Eric wondered whether he hoped that general Carter would retake it, forcing baron Madsen to draw the line differently.

The crown prince himself doubted it. Arendellan forces were blooded and experienced by their campaign around the Tampani trail and Stone Streams, while Carter's corps, and Carter himself, had never seen war before. If it came to blows, the most they could do was to halt Arendellan assault.

Which, Eric reminded himself bitterly, wouldn't serve anything, as general Madsen had made clear that Arendellans would not move beyond the Rollinson Gate. Damn it. There had to be some way…

"Alright", father continued, "we have the border drawn. But even if we sent such a message, there's just plain no way anybody, even on Weselton's fastest horse, could make it in time before the battle starts."

Eric thought about and sighed heavily. Father was right. It was at least twelve hours' journey from Weselton city to Rollinson Gate - if the horse galloped all the way, which no horse could do…

"A snow horse could."

Eric's - and everybody's - attention snapped to Kai, who smiled thinly and shrugged.

"I know we sent Frosty to Arendelle, but Snowy's still here, and snow horses are unbelievably fast. Not to mention they don't tire, so the only constraint is whether the rider will be able to keep himself on its back."

Eric nodded slowly, noticing an incredulous smile dancing on Hakan Madsen's lips. The baron shook his head.

" 'Frosty' and 'Snowy'… ah, never mind. But Kai's right, this might be the only way to reach general Carter in time."

"And then what?", father asked.

"Order him to back off beyond the Gate.", Eric suggested. "Not much he can do otherwise."

"Maybe take the message of the peace treaty to our forces, too?", Kristoff suggested. General shook his head.

"I don't think any of them would be willing to listen to Weseltonian messenger, even if he'd be on snow horse's back. And it's not necessary either, their orders are clear. We can update them later."

Father nodded slowly, still frowning.

"Seeing one of your queen's beasts, our people are more likely to open fire on the than to listen to him."

"Then I'll change the horse by the Rollinson Gare.", Eric told him. Father looked at him sharply.

"Since when it's _you_ who's going?"

"Who else? I mean, Carter knows me, and I'll have to convince him to do what I say…" Eric fixed the glasses on his face, dear hoping that he could do so.

A few minutes later, with father's letter explaining all in brief safely in his pocket, Eric looked at Snowy and swallowed deeply. The creature regarded him with its crystal 'eyes'.

"Sure you can do this?", Kristoff, standing next to him, asked.

"I… hope so." To be honest, with every passing minute he was less and less sure that he would be able to convince people to follow his lead. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. You're supposed to be the king one day. About time you started to act the part.

He opened his eyes and glanced at Kristoff.

"If somebody stands in my way, I'll just… dunno, channel my rage at Margaret and Hunter at them." Even with one of them imprisoned and another dead, Eric could still feel his fury with them boiling within. Kristoff regarded him with wry smile.

"Not a bad idea. Just don't… punch them to death or something."

"Ha ha. So funny. Help me to get on this thing's back, would you?"

He did and Eric felt instant cold. Leaning over snow horse's neck and glancing briefly at the snow cloud that provided the creature with temperature it could live in, he saw his father standing by the castle's entrance. They nodded to each other and Eric turned back to the snow horse.

"I hope you know where Rollinson Gate is.", he told it and had to lean back a bit as the creature looked at him blankly.

"Ah… you don't know? Uhm, can you… dunno, read map or something?"

The creature, to his surprise, nodded. Kristoff ran inside the castle to fetch a map and Eric wondered worryingly just how intelligent queen Elsa's constructs were.

After a minute more, Kristoff returned with a map and found the Rollins gate. He showed it to Snowy and the horse nodded. The huge Arendellan moved aside.

"Eric, you might want to…"

He didn't finish as the snow horse sprang forward with enough speed to strangle Eric's scream of terror. He grabbed Snowy's neck and wrapped his arms around it, trying to keep his eyes open despite the wind blowing in his face as the snow horse sped downhill, the city walls closing in so fast Eric feared he might crash in them. He closed his eyes as they were near, and heard some screams of surprise, but they were passing by so quickly he couldn't hear what they were saying. Wind was blowing in his ears, cold was numbing, and Snowy's hooves on the stone, beating impossibly fast, soon hit the ground again as they left the city, much faster than even galloping horse could. Eric dared to open one eye and look forward, narrowing it against the wind. The snow horse ran off the path, apparently intent on taking a shortcut through wilderness. The mountains were standing in its way, but Eric somehow doubted it would be much of a problem for the creature. Seeing the slope nearing, he closed his eyes again and grabbed the neck stronger, hoping the journey would, indeed, be as quick as Kai and Kristoff had promised.

* * *

He realized he was nearing the Rollinson Gate when the snow horse slowed down, its mad pace changing into regular, horse-like trot. Eric slowly opened his eyes, then slowly sat up and cursed quietly as snow fell on his face. He shook ice and all else off his hood, then looked around. He didn't recognize the area they were in. A sandy road he was on was leading up between by two mild mountain slopes full of autumn grass. On the left, a herd of sheep was grazing peacefully. In front of Eric, high, ragged peaks of the mountains stood proud against clear blue sky. A bit lower, in the distance, he could see some buildings. The sun still wasn't as high up as he feared - it must've been barely past midday. The scenery was so peaceful it was almost absurd after the madness of the last twenty or so hours.

He leaned to Snowy again and asked:

"Why did you slow down? I think you get it that speed is of essence here."

The creature's head turned back and Eric would swear that the snow horse glared at him, as if trying to say 'how am I supposed to tell you?'. It looked back forward and picked a pace, breaking into canter, although this time it wasn't as unnaturally fast as before.

In a few minutes, Eric saw the buildings clearly. There was a tower, a small barracks, a stable and a bigger house, all build of brick. Behind them, the road went further, leading to a huge, jagged cut between two mountain passes, a short, but deep canyon shrouded in shadow. The Rollinson Gate.

There were people in the tower, and Eric heard a quiet cry of alert. He swallowed. Well, now would be a good time to prove you're Charles' son, he told himself and patted Snowy on the back.

"Good job, buddy, but now I've got to leave you here. I don't think the guards will like you."

Snowy slowed to trot, then walk, and finally stopped after another metre or two. Eric swallowed again, seeing two man ride on horses out of the stable, and slid down, then checked if father's message is still in his pocket. He quickly walked forward towards the guards. No need for them to see the snow horse. Now, what should he say…

The guards approached him, eying him warily. Eric answered with the same, deciding to act like his father would in this situation. True, not very polite, but he didn't have time for this. Before they could speak, he glared at them.

"What, cant' you recognize your own crown prince?!"

This sounded terribly unconvincing in his ears, but the men looked at each other in surprise. One leaned closer, then leaned back in surprise.

"Oh… prince Eric? I'm… I'm, sorry, we didn't expect…"

Heartened by the success, Eric pushed further.

"Sure you didn't." He hoped he was harsh enough. "No time, though. I need to reach general Carter, and I need a horse. _Now._"

The other guard looked at Snowy, still standing in distance. Eric swallowed discreetly. He hoped the guards didn't start asking questions, he had to keep their attention on himself…

"Look", he snapped, "I've rode this horse from the city here, do you really think it's capable of much more? For Almighty's sake, man, just give me a damn horse!"

"Oh…", the guard's attention snapped back to Eric. "Of course, my lord. Follow me…"

"_No. Time_. Just give me one of yours!"

"My lord…!"

"Problem?"

"Uh, no, no…"

The guard got off his horse and Eric got on it, then grabbed the reins, remembering how to ride a normal horse. He looked at Snowy, still staring at him with those dead eyes of its. He pointed at it, then at the outpost.

Before the guards could start asking questions, he turned the horse and kicked it to run. It sure wasn't as fast as Snowy, and Eric had little time.

* * *

_High Table_

Two Arendellan scouts were making their way on horseback towards the Rollinson Gate, eluding the patrols the Weasels had put out. Their mission was simple - find the location of Carter's supply train. It certainly wasn't _easy_, though, as they were riding for a few hours already and they didn't see a thing yet, except for occasional horseman on the horizon and, of course, the endless, boring stretch of the plateau.

"I vote for getting ourselves some city-side duty after this's over.", the younger said sourly as his horse - glorified pony, actually, but stout and reliable in this climate - marched forward. "I swear, if I have to spend any more time on open plains, I'll vomit."

The older scout smiled a bit. They were both veterans of general Berg's campaign, and they'd seen enough flat open spaces to have enough of them for the rest of their lives.

"Good idea. You know, I wonder - we haven't seen any cavalry for a while now. I think we already passed their entire army."

"So what, we speed up towards the Gate?"

"Hell, why not? We'll start there and move further north."

The younger one nodded and they both kicked their horses into gallop. After a few minutes, the scout led his animal to his comrade.

"Hey, you think we can torch those supplies if we find them?"

"Guess so, if we won't kill ourselves by this!", the other one answered.

* * *

Lieutenant George Gardner sighed with silent relief as he finished inspecting the supply train and rode away from it on a patrol. He didn't really have to do this - the men of cavalry screen had assured him that nothing would get past them - but he preferred this to the squeaky voice of the man who commanded the carts. Gardner and a handful of others were tasked with keeping him and his subordinates alive, but with every passing day, the urge to strangle the man was growing stronger. He seemed to think that the cavalrymen were his personal errand boys, and his constant wailing of 'do this, do that, do schmat' were getting on everyone's nerves. The voice didn't help in the slightest.

Traveler's shudder and quiet snort brought George back to reality. He patted the horse on the neck, berating himself for losing focus, and looked forward.

"Good eye, boy.", he whispered to Traveler as he saw two figures riding quickly on horses. This couldn't be Weseltonians - they knew where both supplies and general were, so they'd go there rather than in direction of what - Rollinson Gate? It seemed like it.

Gardner briefly considered returning for aid, then figured that before he could bring help, the Arendellans would be long gone. Instead, he waited until they passed by, then motioned Traveler to follow and see what they were up to.

* * *

Eric slowed down the horse, realizing it was starting to pant heavily. Idiot, he told himself. He'd help no one if he rode it to death and had to find Carter on foot.

The animal slowed down to trot with obvious relief and Eric bit his lip, forcing himself not to kick it to gallop again. He had to give it time to rest. He had to save its energy, because otherwise…

Something shot past him and he turned in surprise. There were two people on horseback to his right, in the distance. One was holding a crossbow - holding and reloading it… Eric stared for a split second. Was it Weselton soldiers? No, they'd come to investigate, he wasn't coming from Arendelle side… Maybe he should call to them…

The man raised his crossbow again, aimed at him and Eric yelped, then kicked the horse into gallop again. It sprang forward heavily. He felt the bolt fly an inch behind him and leaned on horse in panic, hoping it could go faster.

"Come on, come on!", he whispered as it galloped in exhaustion, foam falling from its mouth, he glanced aside, the men were chasing him, their horses must've been way more rested…

Suddenly he was catapulted out of the saddle as the horse stumbled and fell on the ground. Eric heard the loud crack and pained flashed through his leg. Distantly, he thought about sprained ankle, but right now, his mind was more occupied by the two Arendellans closing in fast. He tried to get on his feet and almost collapsed on the right leg, then tried again. He looked at the horse. It must've been a misstep, but the leg was broken and turned in sickening angle, and there was no way it would go anywhere…

On foot, Eric decided quickly, glancing back, and began to run - or trot, rather, because the damn leg didn't want to comply and hurt like hell. Eric turned back, just to have a look…

He gasped as a bolt cut through his side. The pain wasn't there - mostly shock…

The pain _was _there and Eric stumbled to the ground with scream of pain. Another crossbow bolt hit him in the arm and he tried to crawl away, feeling the blood leaking from him. It hurt. Almighty, it _hurt_. He gasped for air, trying to move, hearing through the pounding in his head the horse hooves getting closer. They stopped after a few second and Eric looked up, trying to press one hand to his wounded side. Two savage grins greeted him.

"And who's that?", one man asked in clear Arendellan accent. "A messenger, huh?"

"Let's see what's in his message.", the other suggested, getting off the horse and pulling out a knife. It seemed giant. Eric took a sharp breath, trying to crawl out, but he couldn't, not fast enough…

"Don't run." The man's voice was almost kind. "You're only making it harder for yourself…"

I failed, Eric realized as the man knelt next to him and rose the knife. I failed…

Suddenly he heard a splash and the man's head snapped back. His mounted comrade had an arrow in his throat, and the blood was gurgling out as he was falling slowly off his animal. The living man stood up, looking quickly in arrow's direction.

"Oh, dammit!"

He reached for his crossbow and Eric heard hooves closing in. The man hid behind his oddly serene horse and looked behind it.

"Damn Weasel cavalry…"

A second later, Eric heard the sound of boots hitting the thin ice, sword unsheathed and fast steps. A man ducked under horse's head. The animal backed off quickly and the Weseltonian attacked Arendellan, who parried, backing off a step. The newcomer pulled out a knife and swung it at the man, who grabbed the wrist, letting his defense slip. A second later, the sword landed in his guts and blood, impossible amounts of blood, sprayed out. The newcomer, in a red uniform, kicked the man off his blade and looked at Eric in surprise.

* * *

Gardner looked at the men the two merchies were attacking and jumped to him quickly. It wasn't a terrible wound, but bad nonetheless, and had to be tended to…

The face was familiar, and after a second George gasped as he realized he knows it from official portraits.

"Prince Eric?"

The wounded man nodded and tried to reach to his pocked, desperation and pain painted all over his face. Gardner pulled out a knife to cut bolt shafts and looked for something to use as a bandage.

"Alright, your grace, just give me a moment, I just have to stop the bleeding…"

"N… no." The prince gasped for air. "Do they… fight… already?"

Gardner blinked before understanding what the man meant.

"No, not yet. We'd hear it here."

Prince Eric smiled weakly then, his fingers shaking, produced something from the pocket. He tried to push it into Gardner's hands. A folded letter…

"They… can't… Take it to… Carter… must know…"

"Alright, I'll patch you up and I'm…"

"No! No… no… time. Take… now. Before they… start…" He inhaled again, then coughed. No blood, thankfully. Gardner looked helplessly.

"Prince, I can't just leave you here!"

"You… must. Please. Take… it… please…"

"Your grace, I'm sure it's not important enough…"

"It is. Must… tell them… peace… treaty…"

Gardner stared at him. Peace treaty. The prince was talking about the end of the war? But… The lieutenant did a quick math in his head. The battle would be starting in less than two hours if he was right…

"You must… tell them… no… time. Please…"

Gardner took a deep breath, then grabbed the letter and pushed it in the pocket of his uniform. He stood up.

"A, a, alright. I'll take. But… try not to… die or… you know."

The prince smiled with pain.

"I'll do… my best…"

Traveler walked to them and Gardner mounted up quickly.

"Damn it, the prince will have me executed if you die here…"

"Let me… know… I'll pardon… you." Still smiling, the prince took another sharp breath. "Go… now… go!"

Gardner nodded and saluted briefly, then kicked Taveller to gallop.

When he ran into army's main position, he knew his time was running out. Fighting his way through the motion and crowd of people going everywhere, he could already see the merchies on the horizon, readying himself. The prince was right, he had no time, no time…

"What are you doing?", the colonel called, stopping him. Gardner took the letter out. "You should be by the supplies… Why is there blood on your hands?!"

"Look, sir, I know, but I've got the message from the city, I need to give it to the general…"

"Not now, you idiot! The battle will start any moment now!"

"Yes, I know, and he has to get it before it starts!"

"I don't really think so! What it's about?"

"Not sure, sir…"

"Then don't waste my time!" He turned back to leave.

"Sir, the messenger said something about a peace treaty!"

The last two words worked like a charm. Every eye in vicinity turned to him.

"You kidding.", the colonel said.

"That's what the man said, and he seemed to be in kind of hurry, sir, so…"

"Give it."

The colonel almost ripped the message out of George's fingers and ran to general's post, people parting in front of him.

* * *

General Berg clenched his teeth, trying not to show his tension. If he could, he'd get off the horse and start pacing around, but alas, he couldn't really show his army that he's nervous. Around him, the other three were very careful to do the same. At least Olafsen had a spyglass to fiddle with.

Just as Berg thought that, Jens lowered it and asked incredulously:

"What the hell?"

Berg turned to him.

"What is it?"

"I'd swear they…" Olafsen looked again, then passed the spyglass to Bjorn.

"Just look at it. They're retreating."

Kristiani raised his eyebrows.

"They do _what_?"

"You've gotta be kidding me.", Simani grumbled. "We walked all the way here and they do what - escape us?"

Berg examined the Weseltonians on the horizon.

"Yeah, it would seem so. Any idea why?"

"They found a better position?", Olafsen suggested.

"Then why walk all the way here in the first place?", Simani asked.

"They saw us and got scared?", Kristiani said. Berg passed him the spyglass.

"So why pull back after at least two hours of seeing us?"

"Uhm… I don't know." Kristiani didn't even look, instead glancing at the rest. "So what? We follow?"  
Olafsen shrugged.

"With luck, they'll move all the way behind the Rollinson Gate, and there'll be no battle."

Judging by the death glare Simani sent towards the Weasel line, it wasn't that much of a good luck, but Ebbe didn't comment and Berg smiled a little. Maybe there was something they didn't know about. Maybe Hakan took Weasel prince hostage or something.

Anyway, it seemed that the war was nearing its ending.

* * *

Thankfully, after he mentioned the messenger dying, ambushed by merchies who didn't know about the treaty, Gardner was quickly freed to find and help the man, if he was still alive. Galloping on Traveler's back, George quickly congratulated himself on not mentioning the identity of the messenger. The general would _skin_ him if he knew that his lieutenant had left the crown prince to die.

For that matter, Gardner dear hoped that prince Eric didn't pass away, even though logic dictated the opposite.

As he ran to the place where he killed the merchie scout, George straightened with alarm. There was a group of horses and people around the place, with one of them leaning over a body on the ground. A short distance from them, a white horse was standing, staring at the scene. As he rode closer, Gardner breathed with relief. The newcomers wore the brown uniform of Weselton militia, and one of them was tending to the prince. They were eying the white horse cautiously.

He stopped the Traveler when realized the horse wasn't a horse. It was some… creature, with dead eyes made of… ice? It was horse-shaped, but oddly amorphous, as if it was a snowman… It was some monster made of snow. George swallowed and made the sign to ward off evil. The creature didn't even look at him.

Eying it cautiously, George approached the militiamen. Their leader straightened and saluted. Gardner realized with a smile that it was the same man the lieutenant had met when he was fleeing merchies some days back.

"Sergeant."

"Sir! We've found… Well, sir, prince Eric came to our post on this…" He looked at the creature. "On this thing, and he took one of our horses. He left this… this thing there, apparently ordered it to stay, and left. It followed him, though, so we followed it, not sure… you know, sir."

"Yeah, I see. And it lead you to him?"

"Well, it was just going in straight line, but yes."

George sighed with relief. Whatever hell spawned this creature, it had apparently saved his prince's life. He jumped off Traveler.

"How is he?"

"He'll live, I think."

"Is he conscious?"

"Barely…"

George walked to the prince and knelt by him.

"Your grace… I passed the message. The army is retreating to the Rollinson Gate now. The Arendellans follow us, but they didn't open fire."

He'd swear he could see the prince nodding faintly.

* * *

_Weselton_

A day passed as Kai paced anxiously from one end of corridor to another, waiting for father and prince Charles to resolve the case and finally draw a working peace treaty. They got a message that Eric's endeavor had succeeded, to Kai's immense relief. It seemed the war was over for good.

He wondered whether he had failed. It certainly felt so to him. He tried to negotiate, but it seemed… No, he just wasn't cut for diplomacy. He failed completely, he finally admitted to himself. Perhaps he should've been more… adamant or… something.

At midnight, he went to short, troubled sleep. The thought that he could've ended the war sooner returned to him in a nightmare.

Finally, at the evening of the second day, the prince and the baron glared at each other over the table on which the treaty lay. Kai, a cup of hot chocolate in his hands, looked from one to another.

Father nodded first.

"It would seem we're done."

"Apparently.", Charles managed to utter through clenched teeth. "Witnesses?"

"My son and prince Bjorgman from our side. Chose whoever you wish to on yours."

"The chancellor and the lawmaster. Can you sign the treaty in your queen's name?"

"Otherwise I wouldn't suggest it. Now, shall we?"

Before signing, like everyone, Kai read through the peace treaty. It wasn't as harsh towards Weselton as Kai's father made it seem. The High Table went to Arendelle and Weselton, as the attacking side, had to pay reparations, but Arendelle promised to resume trade with Weselton, so it sort-of evened out. Kai nodded to himself and dipped the pen's top in ink, then slowly signed under the words "so testify the witnesses". Then he exhaled slowly and passed the pen to the chancellor. He signed. Then the lawmaster. The pen was screeching on the parchment. Finally, father. He took his time. Then all eyes turned to prince Charles and silence fell. Then man glared at the paper for a moment. Then, with sharp strike of pen, he signed it.

A breath of relief of witnesses was so strong it was audible.

After the traditional toast, Kai walked out of the room and leaned on the wall, breathing deeply. Father joined him after a second.

"So…", Kai asked slowly. "It's over."

"Almost. But formally, yes."

Kai nodded quickly.

"I sort of screwed up, didn't I?"

"Not too much. Perhaps we should've tried something like what I did from the beginning, but the queen was fairly confident that she doesn't want to look like an invading tyrant in the eyes of other rulers."

"What changed, then?"

"The queen is still comatose after assassination attempt."

Kai gasped, goggling at father.

"Is she…?"

"Alive." Father smirked. "She proved more impossible to kill than anyone had anticipated. She should be fine in a few days."

Kai nodded.

"So… what now?"

Father's smile widened.

"Now, Kai, I've got a job for you."

"Oh?" This sounded vaguely ominous.

"Don't worry. No diplomacy or anything. Simple hunt."

"_Oh_? Like, who am I supposed to hunt down?"

"The man who tried to kill the queen." Father's smile turned into wolfish grin.

"Felix Drachner."


End file.
